Flying the Nest
by skinnyrita
Summary: Harry has reason for confusion when an unlikely truce with Malfoy propels both into more danger than ever. This is not slash. This is not a happy truce. Some horror, some humour, some Lupin romance and DracoGinny. Get ready...and review.
1. part one: harry flies

Disclaimer: I do not own harry potter or any of the characters within this story, only the plot. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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'FLYING THE NEST' PART ONE:

Harry Potter was huddled under his bedcovers. every 3 seconds a bright light shone from the tip of his wand and if u listened very verrry carefully u could hear the words...'ENGORGIO!' OOh my goodness. yes, thats right cinema-goers, Harry was indeed, trying to grow his little snake!!! uncle vernon, on his way to the lavatory, however, was unfortunate enough to see the light flickering under the door and within 5 mins (as he is a very smart man) had realised that that scummy little freaky potter, his m- m-thatword-agical nephew, that nearly of age w-w-thatword was doing you- know-what under his roof!!! i say that uncle vernon was the unfrotunate, as lo and behold, when the ramapaging rhino of a man burst into the ingrate's room and tore off the coverlet before little harry could react, he was hit full force with the engorgio charm and was blasted off his feet, whereupon his head grew to enormous size with no intention of shrinking. harry potter, naturally, grabbed his stuff and legged it.  
  
when harry got round the corner of privet drive, it occured to him that he had no place whatsoever to go. as he had inadvertently happened upon when he had blown up the cantankerous aunt marge, harry stuck out his wand arm and hailed the knight bus.  
  
to little effect.  
  
harry stamped in frustration and tripped over his trunk. as if on cue there was the purple triple-decker trying to run him down. 'choo fall over for?' said stan, 'ere look ern, s'neville!' harry got to his feet and was about to heave his cargo onto the violet bus wen it gave a violent lurch. 'engine's gone stan,' gruinted ernie prang, 'always said she would.' 'sorry neville!' said stan, looking perplexed, 'but she's gone an' died on us! here's the charm for a flapper!' he thrust a crumpled scrap of paper into harry's free hand, and pitched him back onto the pavement again so we once more found himself in a heap with his trunk and hedwig's cage. the bus promptly 'evaporated' for lack of a better term, stan and all, and harry was left lying by the road.  
  
he blinked. this was not the getaway he had not-planned-very-much. he prodded the air where the bus had been standing. there was indeed only air. it seemed that the whole bus and all its occupants had effectively disapparated. and here he was, alone again, on the dark corner of the most hated muggle street (to him) imaginable.  
  
he frantically scanned the scrap of paper stan had given him. very bad handwriting in smudgy black ink proclaimed: flap-cab charm: lapsus advenire (latin: flight, arrive.)  
  
'lapsus advenire.' said harry, aloud. he gazed up expectantly at the deep blue sky. nothing stirred.  
  
"LAPSUS ADVENIRE!!!" he demanded, annoyed. great. this stupid thing didn't work either. he slumped down on his trunk n shrugged in exasperation. his wand slipped out of his sleeve. he stared at it. 'idiot!' he muttered, and gave the wand a determined flick. 'lapsus advenire!' the air aroudn him seemed to give a little shudder. and within 60 seconds an extraordinary contraption dropped out of the sky and hovered before him. it seemed to be a broom, with two large panels magically suspended on either side so that in effect, they took on the appearance of 'wings'. but far FAR more strange than anything to do with the wizarding version of a mini cab, was the rider or 'driver' of the broom who was staring at harry with the most unbelieveing and utterly comtemptable stare on his pale face: Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Malfoy?!" said harry, when it seemed that malfoy was not going to speak.  
  
"Thats right Potty, you laugh if you want but at least some of us have holiday jobs instead of living off our precious precocious realtives." said malfoy, somewhat devensively, tho harry had no idea (as yet) of why.  
  
"I didnt say anything! and the reason i'm here is because i hate my 'precious relatives' and i'm never ever ever going back! so there!' harry retorted. he wasnt sure why. and now that he'd said it, he realised it was true: he had left number four privet drive for the very last time. "so can we do this or do i need to get another...flappybus thing?"  
  
"it's a FLAP-CAB potter. and no. if you get another one you'll have lost me some of my wage packet. i mean..oh damn it." malfoy paused. harry stared. " ok so what potter, i left home, ok so stop fuckin looking at me like that. what do you want? get on the broom and put your stuff on the flappers. here, use a hovering charm."  
  
"So...how much is this?"  
  
"for you it's a sickle a mile."  
  
"for me?" said harry, dangerously.  
  
"yeah. i know you're made of money, weasel's always complaining about it. so pay up. where are you going?"  
  
"i have no idea. i suppose the leaky cauldron?"  
  
"Not weasel's?"  
  
"No. why, where else could i go?"  
  
Malfoy paused. "I have a room in my flat. if you can help me pay the rent," he said.

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TO BE CONTINUED... 


	2. part two: the tough get going

IT'S PART 2! WILL WE FIND OUT WHY MALFOY HAS LEFT HOME??!  
  
last line of prev part: malfoy paused. "I have a room in my flat. If you can help me pay the rent," he said.

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PART 2-  
  
Harry blinked. Was this a trick? it had to be. your arch-enemy doesn't just had out accommodation to you like that. he gripped his wand tightly. Malfoy's eyes flickered to it but he remained still. "what makes you think I would trust anything you have to offer, Malfoy. i can't even trust this flap-cab with you in the driving seat. do i look thick to you or something? I'm not about to just hand myself over to the mercy of you, your father, or any other of Voldemort's loyal little gang. so why don't you just cut the act and piss off now?"  
  
Malfoy glared at him, almost luminous with rage, his mouth drawn into a thin, painful little line. his cheekbones stood out harshly against his naturally slim face. 'he looks a bit gaunt, actually,' Harry thought suddenly. and come to think of it, sure Malfoy was thin, but didn't he usually have a bit more bulk than this streetlight was letting on? Malfoy opened his mouth and abruptly started to speak. his voice was soft and dangerous, and it was clear that every fibre of his body was literally radiating with anger: "yes, that's right potter. think what you like, everyone else does. I'm going to grow up to be lord Voldemort's little lap dog just like my dear old dad, and when i get married, i think I'll have a son. i think I'll beat him into submission until he does exactly what he's told, and then punctuate these scenes with the ironic grossly charming scenes of affection in public. and then, when my master calls, because i could never ever think for my own bloody self, I would take my son, before he was even of age, and I would try to force the ugly, permanent stain of the Mark onto his arm."  
  
Malfoy paused. Harry considered him, and lowered his wand a fraction of an inch. "roll up your left sleeve."  
  
And Malfoy did.  
  
It was unfinished, this Dark Mark. Harry had seen it whole on the arm of professor Snape, so he knew what it was meant to be. this one was just the head of the snake. but it was not neatly burned into the skin so as the be smooth and precise. this half-'mark' was raw and angry looking, like a large and intricate wound from a compass applied the worst way imaginable to the skin. and with such deathly pale skin as Draco Malfoy, it was impossible to miss.  
  
Harry lowered his wand. "where is this flat?"  
  
Malfoy levitated Harry's gear onto the 'flappers' with a wave of his hand and was instantly back to being business-like, as if by blocking the past ten minutes' events, he could pretend they had never happened. "in London of course. it's easier to hide in a big city. it's in the muggle part, of course, father always hated to go there, and i had Dumbledore make the flat itself unplottable, obviously. he's the secret-keeper. of sorts. i can tell people i want to tell where it is, but no one can force me, not even with veritaserum."  
  
"Cool!" said, Harry, rather stupidly. he swallowed. "the idea, I mean. I didn't know it could work like that."  
  
"Whatever." Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, and Harry mounted the broom.  
  
The flat was quite large, but Malfoy obviously didn't think so. Harry wasn't surprised he found trouble fixing the rent; this rather swanky flat (tho evidently nowhere near the standard a Malfoy was used to) was situated just off Old Bond St. As Malfoy had said, there were 2 bedrooms. Harry's was about the same size as the room he'd had with the Dursley's, with an unmade double bed, a tall empty wardrobe, and a writing desk which was currently supporting the weight of a large cage, the home of Malfoy's eagle owl, Archimedes. There was a small bathroom with a shower, loo and basin, and an impossibly tiny kitchen which considering it was being rented by a guy was surprisingly spotless. the area in the middle of these doors was serving as a sitting room-type area, with a long brown corduroy sofa, and a similar armchair. there was no carpet, only a small TV with a bent aerial. obviously, he didn't know what Malfoy's room was like, but Harry had a feeling it was probably bigger than his. They stood extremely awkwardly in the sitting room area. Harry was lugging his trunk and broom, Malfoy had Hedwig's cage tucked under one arm. he was thankful that it was empty.  
  
"no magic here, of course, I'm not 17 til next November 13th," said Malfoy, oddly apologetic, "but you lived with muggles anyway."  
  
"right," said Harry, heaving his stuff into his new room and trying not to comment when Malfoy removed his own owl's cage and replaced it with Hedwig's. there was another uneasy silence. perhaps malice had been better than this unexpected truce that they found themselves in, both acutely aware that they were both homeless and at each other's mercy. Malfoy because he was desperately lacking the finances to remain under this roof, and Harry because if Malfoy kicked him out he would be alone once more. both of them, being searched for by Lord Voldemort and his Death eaters.  
  
"so... how much is the rent?"  
  
"£250 a week. housekeeping included though."  
  
"bloody hell, that's steep." Harry had never imagined that owning your own place would set you back quite so much.  
  
"£125 each now though."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So. ....I'd better go then. my shift's not meant to end until 7am. see you in the morning Potter."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Oh, and Potter?" Malfoy paused as he opened the front door. "If any muggle girls call by in the night, you know, before I'm back, let them in will you? brunettes. tall. I know them, so.. catch you later." and with that, Malfoy had left the building, folks.

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TO BE CONTINUED...OOH BRUNETTE MUGGLE GIRLS EH? DRACO'S SUCH A LADIES' MAN, LOL! 


	3. part three: the wizard's photos

LAST LINE OF PART TWO:

and with that, Malfoy had left the building, folks.

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PART THREE OF 'FLYING THE NEST':  
  
Harry stared at the door. The door just hung there. Being a door. "Brunettes." said Harry.  
  
The first thing he needed to do was check Malfoy's room. As Malfoy had unwittingly admitted to being an underage wizard still, and therefore unable to do magic outside of term-time, and apparently unaware of Harry's age, Harry found himself with the upper hand here. For once. He pushed the door open with the tip of his left index finger, aware that he was holding his breath. There was a pause. Here was nice little Harry, Dumbledore's 'Golden Boy' as Malfoy had called him on countless ocassions, breaking and entering. Of sorts. "Come on, there IS no one to turn to anymore," he muttered, and with this resolve, gave the door a shove.  
  
He didn't feel too guilty, prying. After all, Malfoy could well be back at any second with a troupe of very happy Deatheaters. it could still all be a trick. But Harry soon began to realise, that it wasn't.  
  
The bed was unmade, characteristic of a guy living alone, especially one who'd had house-elves such as Dobby running round after them their whole lives, picking up after them. Wizard robes were piled up on a desk chair, and when Harry peeked into the wardrobe he found this one crowded with school robes, several colours of dress robes, two Slytherin Quidditch uniforms, and an array of cloaks. he closed the doors again carefully before opening the chest of drawers. He was surprised. Apart from the necessities such as socks and boxers, Malfoy seemed to own a lot of muggle clothing, which for someone who apparently hated muggles, was kinda weird. On top of the wardrobe was Malfoy's Nimbus 2001. Harry stared at it. Obviously this broom wasn't anywhere near as good as his own Firebolt, but even if it was a public image malfoy's father was upholding, the Dursleys would certainly never have forked out for a racing broom simply to ensure inclusion in the house team.  
  
It was the photos that made Harry start to really believe what Malfoy had told him. Wizard photgraphs, of course, not only move, but their characters take on the feelings of the people at the time. On the windowsill was an untidy heap of wizard photos, as if Malfoy had been interupted looking at them. he didn't dare touch them, but two had come out of the pile so that he could see them clearly. the first one showed Malfoy and his parents in dress robes. Malfoy looked very uncomfortable, and his father very smug. His mother wasn't paying attention to either of them; she was absorbed with her reflection in a tall vase that stood on a table close by. As his father moved his hand to smarten his dress robes, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy flinch, as if he had thought his father was going to hit him. Harry swallowed. He himself usually gave the same reaction whenever Vernon Dursley made a sudden movement. Narcissa Malfoy stopped preening and went to stand with her husband, shoving Malfoy out of the picture. In a few seconds he came back into view, but remained at the side, watching his parents as they looked self-importantly out of the photo.  
  
The second photo was of Malfoy on his own. This time he was dressed in Quidditch robes, but this wasn't the sneering, slimy little git Harry had played against since the second year. This Malfoy was not so much sullen, as damn well depressed. his eyes had a hollow, lifeless look to them. Harry was about to abandon the photo as it didn't seem to be doing much, when long pale fingers suddenly grasped Malfoy by the upper arm. He stared at the person out of shot, who Harry could not see with an expression that could read nothing other than terror. And then he was yanked out of the photo. Harry waited a while for him to return. But Malfoy didn't.  
  
Harry decided he'd done enough snooping. Clearly, Malfoy had indeed moved out. He glanced at his watch and slouched into the sitting room area. He was surprised that everything was so muggle still. Even if Malfoy was under age, it would not be beyond Dumbledore to sort this place out. He slumped onto the sofa. It was nearly half 5 in the morning. Malfoy would return in and hour and a half. He was just wondering what on earth he was going to say to him when his DID return, and even more importantly where these tall brunette muggle girls were going to get there, when the intercom started buzzing and his stomach jumped into his throat.

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TO BE CONTINUED!

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Hi thanks to Suzakugrly –don't worry Suza it didn't end after part 2! It's still a WIP n thanks for your great pointers, this story is still developing I promise and I'll check what went wrong on chap 2 –ta!  
  
Secondly: to the very rude flamer who was trying to impress me with their poetry awards or something and had absolutely nothing useful to say: No I'm not American, therefore 'American-izing' things would be pretty difficult I'm already a published author so don't try to pitch yourself higher than me CHILL OUT! This is meant to be FUN!!!

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Keep all your eyes peeled for part 4, and thanks for the reviews, if you want to flame me I really don't mind as long as you have something constructive to say. Ta. xxxx 


	4. part four: beautiful brunettes

YEY TIME FOR PART 4! WE CAN MEET THE MUGGLE BRUNETTES! WHICH SHLD BE FUN, LOL.  
  
last line of part 3: the intercom started buzzing and his stomach jumped into his throat.

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PART 4:  
  
Harry sat bolt upright on the brown corduroy sofa, fixing the intercom with a look of panic. He took a deep breath and prayed for mercy. "Malfoy, where are you?" he muttered, which had to be the very first time he had ever wished for the appearance of his old rival.  
  
Harry pressed the little button and spoke into the mike. Luckily, his voice had broken another octave during the summer, and instead of hearing the paranoid bloke fidgeting nervously on the other end of the line, the girls at the door found themselves listening to a rough, deep baritone that was definitely not who they had expected.  
  
"This is Mal- er, Draco's flat," said Harry, stupidly.  
  
He heard a shrill fuzzy whispering at the other end, then a voice said, uncertainly, "er, who's that? This is Emma. D said we could still catch up tonight. -more whispers in the background-, um... should we go? only it's like, nearly six."  
  
"Sure," said Harry, hoping that he sounded extremely cool and smooth, rather than a quivering nervous wreck. He had approximately two minutes to get himself together while the girls climbed the stairs, and suspected he would start hyperventilating a little before then.  
  
But then, miraculously and as if on cue, the window opened behind him and Malfoy entered on a very old Comet Two-Sixty, pulling off an invisibility cloak that looked rather newer than Harry's.  
  
"What? Think you're the only one Dumbledore ever protected?" he snapped.  
  
"It's not even six yet," said Harry, blankly. "Er, those muggles are on their way up."  
  
"Bollocks," said Malfoy, in a posh sort of self-preoccupied voice. He darted into his room, throwing a, "come here!" to Harry. Harry followed, warily, holding his wand, which had been on his person ever since he'd hailed the Knight Bus. Malfoy was hastily ripping off his robes, which had jeans underneath, and pulling on a muggle shirt, while continuing "OK, you're my cousin and your name is...Chris. It can be Chris. Chris Malfoy. God I have ugly relatives," he muttered, stowing the broom on the top of the wardrobe with his Nimbus.  
  
"Why can't I just be Harry Potter?" said, Harry, nonplussed, as Malfoy shoved any evidence of wizardry under his bed, including the photographs from the window sill.  
  
"God Potter, you really are thick," he said, "we'll talk later. You're CHRIS. And put your wand somewhere out of sight for God's sakes!"  
  
Harry was just stowing his wand in his trunk, when he heard Malfoy opening the door to the muggles. He swallowed, keeping out of sight long enough to hear Malfoy say, in a distinctly huskier tone than usual, "Surprised? Your faces, I did promise I'd be back early!" There was the sound of girls saying 'mwa...mwa!'. Harry assumed they were kissing Malfoy's cheeks the way posh Londoners do, which made him smirk, remembering what it looked like when Aunt Petunia and Marge attempted this. "Who answered, D? He said you were out? I was verrrry upset." Harry cringed. he could feel the girl's pout from here.  
  
"My...cousin. Chris. He's got a sense of humour, you know...hey Chris!"  
  
Harry unwillingly left the safety of his new room, and leaned against the door frame in what he hoped was a casual manner. Malfoy was standing in the doorway still, with a girl draped over one arm, and another two occupied the sofa.  
  
"This is Emma," Malfoy smirked, indicating the girl on his arm. Harry stared. Tall brunette was right, but Malfoy had neglected to mention that this girl -ALL these girls, he realised -looked at least half a million quid better off than anyone he'd ever seen, and was clearly what was referred to on reality TV as a 'socialite'.  
  
"Hey," she said, dropped Malfoy's arm and began to make for the kitchen. he felt decidedly scruffy, and pulled his hair over his scar as if it was a terrible embarrassment.  
  
"And this is Cassy, and Heidi. My girls," said Malfoy possessively. "Girls, this is Chris."  
  
"Hey Chris," said one of them, who Harry noted was very leggy and didn't own a lot of skirt. She did a double-take for a second and said, "hey, that's is just too unreal. If you weren't D's cousin I'd be seriously freaked! Cass, doesn't he look a lot like Harry Potter?"  
  
Harry choked. Malfoy gave a very forced laugh, "yeah, yeah that would be weird wouldn't it, Chris? But you know, just cuz my parents were barmy enough to name ME after a book character..." he laughed again. Harry was extremely confused. The girl Cassy had stood up and was giving him an appraising look.  
  
"He would be, if he were a bit fatter, and had a scar thing," she said, and sauntered past him to join Emma in the kitchen, where they could now hear the chinking of glassware. Malfoy gave him a sharp twitch of the eyebrow, and reclined with a practiced casualness on the sofa. Harry, against his inner wishes, and his instinct which was to run away from this extremely strange situation before he got sucked in too far, slouched over to the armchair and slumped into it. Malfoy put his hand on the leggy girl's thigh.  
  
"Eep! Dracoooow not in front of your cousiiin!" she squeaked, and moved a little closer to him. Harry stared pointedly at the blank TV screen. Malfoy chucked him the remote.  
  
"Hey Chris," he said, and Harry detected a small hint of warning in his tone, "see what's on TV mate." Harry flicked the channels. It was just past 6 am. There was BBC news, early 'Ceebeebies'. ITV News, and re-showings of yesterday's 'Big Brother'.  
  
"Ceebeebies!" squealed leggy, now joined again by Cassy, who had taken Malfoy's other side and was looking distinctly pissed off with him.  
  
They were forced to watch Ceebeebies, including the Teletubbies and the Tweenies for over an hour, when Emma, who had taken the initiative to find them all beers or vodka, depending on preference, suggested that they switch over for the football results. Harry decided that this one of the little 'social club' was alright.  
  
"We'd better go, then," said Heidi pointedly. She and Cassy made to go, around quarter to eight, when Harry had got so tired that he was awake again and feeling slightly drunk and very hungry.  
  
"See you round, Harry Potter lookie," said Cassy, and Heidi kissed him on the cheek before throwing a disgruntled look at Malfoy, and leaving with a, "we should hang out some time, Chris!"  
  
Emma remained. The moment the door shut, she fell down across Malfoy's lap, where she'd been sitting to keep out of the way of the giggle sisters.  
  
"Urgh, that was the biggest pile of shite I've ever had to put up with in my life!" she said. Harry gaped. Malfoy sniggered. "You are Harry Potter, aren't you?" she continued, "you know The Daily Prophet puts at least ten pounds on you. You could sue."  
  
"Yeah, that's him," said Malfoy idly, flicking onto the news.  
  
"Hortense Lestrange," said the girl who up to two seconds ago had been the very muggle Emma, extending a hand, "Weird place to meet, eh Potter?"

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TO BE CONTINUED SO ADIOS AND WAIT FOR CHAP 5 TO SEE HOW THEY ALL KNEW IT WAS HARRY!!! 


	5. part five: muggle fiction

PARTY ON DOWN IT'S PART CINQUE AND HU IS HORTENSE LESTRANGE?!?  
  
LAST LINE OF PART 4  
  
"Weird place to meet, eh Potter?"

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PART 5 OF 'FLYING THE NEST'  
  
She held out a hand to Harry, shifting from her sprawled position on Malfoy's lap, who said, "Mind your elbow!" Harry stared at the offered hand.  
  
"Lestrange," he said, coldly. "Bellatrix-"  
  
"-is not related." said Hortense, firmly. "Very un-related. I'm Draco's second cousin. And I'm Bulgarian." Harry tensed. Malfoy flicked onto a Channel 4 breakfast show, unconcernedly.  
  
"Oh for Merlin's sake." she pulled a wand out of its hiding place in her left boot. Harry flinched. Why had he hidden his own in his room? But Hortense, to Harry's great astonishment and Malfoy's absolute utter disinterest, pointed it at herself and muttered, "finite incantatem!"  
  
Harry blinked. Where 'Emma' had been seconds before, a girl who looked like she could've been Malfoy's older sister had taken her place. She had long, silvery blonde hair, and an impossibly clear, pale complexion like marble, though unlike Malfoy her eyes were very dark green. Also, this woman was at least 22 or 23. Harry gaped at her. Malfoy was still absorbed in a Hollyoaks re-run. Hortense was rubbing her throat. "Vot did you vink I vos going to do? De killing curse?" she complained, the Blugarian accent now startlingly apparent.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Haff you at least de good grace to shake hand vith me now?"  
  
"Oh! Yeah, sorry..." Harry and Hortense shook hands.  
  
"A concealement charm," she explained, clambering off Malfoy and checking her beer bottle for dregs. "You could use vun on your scar, you never know, you might haff less headaches."  
  
Harry sat up. "How do you know about that? And what the hell was that with those muggles? Wizards I've got used to but -what the bloody hell's going on?"  
  
Hortense stared at him for a moment. "You veely don't know, do you?" she said increduously. Harry was completely bewildered. Hortense kicked Malfoy. "Go get de books."  
  
"I haven't got any!" said Malfoy indignantly, going uncharacteristically pink. Hortense folded her arms sternly.  
  
"Yes, you haff."  
  
Malfoy heaved himself laboriously off the sofa and stalked off to his room. Harry could hear him grumbling to himself, shifting things. Hortense picked her nails idly. Malfoy returned staggering under the weight of an enormous crate of books. Hortense conjured a cushion, and reclined like a long, blonde cat on it. Harry peered curiously into the box. Malfoy was shifting school textbooks onto the sofa, including: "A mesmerising muddle: how muggles make magic" "NEWT level muggle studies for British life" "Magical creatures: a diary of dragons internationally" "Awfully advanced Quidditch" and "Arithmancy for brainiacs." At the bottom, underneath "The standard book of spelled: Duelling edition", seemed to be several muggle fiction novels, including, to Harry's surprise, "The Lord of the Rings".  
  
"Here," said Malfoy brusquely, dumping a handful of brightly coloured books into Harry's lap, adding bitterly, "no wonder your head's so fat."  
  
Harry stared at the book on the top of the pile. "What on-?" Staring up at him was the title: "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J K Rowling". The illustration sported what he considered a very unflattering caricature of -himself. He opened it warily. And was astonished to discover Vernon and Petunia Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive.  
  
Shaking, stunned, he scanned the covers of the four remaining books.  
  
"Sixth one must be taking longer to write. It's not out yet. Stupid woman," said Malfoy moodily, "dunno why she's got it in for me. She should have catalogued my life. See how she liked that." He growled in disgust and stared moodily at the offending pile.  
  
Hortense suddenly snorted with laughter. "Malfoy de incredible bouncing ferret!" she giggled. "Book...four," she said to Harry.  
  
"What IS this?!" Harry demanded, confused, "who wrote them?!"  
  
"It's muggle fiction. Vell, a vitch vote it, obviously. Must haff thought your life vould make a good story. Of course, most vizards haff no idea these books exist. You vink you are famous as de boy who lived? Ha! No vunder Heidi and Cassy ver so ...gobsmacked, ven brains here first let his name slip."  
  
"How was I supposed to know I'm in some bloody muggle fairytale?" said Malfoy, grumpily.  
  
"So- so let me get this straight. Some witch has been following me my whole life, writing me down, and making a profit out of it in the muggle world!?"  
  
"I don't know vot else I can say. Is de curse of fame," said Hortense.  
  
"But-" BLEEP BLIP BLIP BLEEP!  
  
They all jumped. Hortense took an impossibly small mobile phone out of her pocket, checked the caller, pointed her wand at herself again and said "Samantha." The transformation was instantaneous. Samantha had short, red hair and zillions of freckles.  
  
"Samantha's phone? Ooh David! Yes I'm on my way there now!" she shut it again and with as casual, "see you, kid" to Malfoy, and "nice meeting you Potter," she disapparated with a loud crack and was gone.

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END OF PART 5! I KNOW IT WAS A BIT LONG BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY IN MY IDEA THAT HARRY WAS A BOOK CHARACTER AND ALSO EXISTED IN REAL LIFE -SORRY. LOL TO BE CONTINUED!

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Thanks to queenheidi69 for the lovely review! thank you! lol I was very surprised so I got writing straight away to bring you the next part!

Also: thanks to the girls in NYC for their contribution -I had no idea people in other countries were reading this so I was very surprised!

Keep your eyes peeled for the next part, love skinnyrita xxxx


	6. part six: shacked up

HELLO THIS MAY BE SHORT DEPENDING ON HOW LONG MY IDEAS TAKE TO FORMULATE -I MUST WATCH THE FOOTBALL AT HALF 7!!!!! GO ENGLAND!!!

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LAST LINE OF PART 5-  
  
...she disapparated with a loud crack and was gone.

* * *

PART 6 OF FLYING THE NEST- (WILL I EVER GET TO THE POINT? WHO KNOWS? COME TO THINK OF IT, WHO CARES? I'M HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN, LOL)  
  
Malfoy kicked the bottom of the sofa and glared at the spot where Hortense had just been. Harry twisted his lips together because there was very little he could say at the moment, not really having been on speaking terms with Malfoy for the most part, and then there was also that factor that the larger section of his brain, the bit that usually was pre-occupied with Quidditch and plans to murder Snape, were now all immersed in the millions of questions whirling around his head that were yelling 'HOW?' 'WHAT?!' and 'What The Bloody Hell is Someone Doing Writing Books About ME?!' The books in question, were nestled in his lap, supported by the hammock-like baggy bit at the bottom of the shirt he was wearing. Malfoy kicked the sofa again, rather more savagely, and made for his room.  
  
"Can I borrow these then?" called Harry, a split second before Malfoy kicked his door resolutely SHUT.  
  
"Fuck off, Potter," were his consenting words. Harry shrugged and studied the first page of 'The Philospher's Stone'. It couldn't hurt to read it, really.  
  
Hours passed. Harry, who had been feeling tipsy, and a little reckless in the early hours of that morning, was fully sobered up by 2pm, when he next heard any movement from Malfoy. Harry was nearing the end of 'The Chamber of Secrets'. And he was totally entralled. It was like reading a diary he'd never had to take the trouble of writing himself, like some kind of extraordinarily accurate biography. This Rowling woman seemed to know everything. He was actually pretty impressed. Though this new discovery about his life (which he had got over pretty quickly -after all, as the books could testify, his life so far had held plenty of new discoveries and none of them had brought the world to a grinding halt yet) had freaked him out a little, he had accepted it as he had come to accept so many other odd things -'strange and abnormal', as Aunt Petunia would say. However, he couldn't help thinking that this sort of information could be placing both he and Malfoy in a great deal of danger. Was this woman writing down what he was doing, right at this very instant?  
  
Malfoy emerged from his room at 2.11 pm exactly, and headed towards the miniscule kitched without so much as a glance at Harry. Malfoy looked a great deal less harassed, and Harry assumed he must've had some sleep. He was wearing faded khaki combats and a black t-shirt that said 'this is a slogan shirt' on it. Harry thought they had probably fitted him at some point (Malfoy not having to cope with hand-me-downs), but now he was so thin and worn looking that they sagged a little and made him look kind of...fragile. Which obviously was not something he would want to draw attention to. The t-shirt was short sleeved and Harry had noticed that even though Malfoy gave him no shred of attention, he was walking with his left arm secured to his side so that the half-mark couldn't be seen again.  
  
Harry was famished. He'd tried to raid Malfoy's 'kitchen' and had found an abundance of larger, vodka, a small bottle of tequila, half a loaf of furry bread which he hadn't even bothered to toast, a lump of cheddar, some milk, coffee, three packets of different breakfast cereals and two packs of Benson and Hedges, one of which was opened and had six fags remaining.  
  
Malfoy returned with a large bowl with a mixture of Shreddies, Coco-Pops and Cornflakes it, switched on the TV again and started watching the end of a black and white western.  
  
"Are we being followed?" said Harry, indicating the books.  
  
"We're in an unplottable flat, Potter, of course we're not being written down right this second." {NB- see what I did there? I'M writing them down! just thought I'd point that out, though it's not essential to the tale}  
  
Harry could tell that this was not going to be an easy flat-share. And Malfoy was not going to try to make it any easier. So the best thing to do would be to try and avoid him as much as possible -pretty hard when you're -he grimaced whenever the phrase popped into his brain -shacked up -together.  
  
The tense, unwelcome first day turned into a bitter, clenched jaw week, which would only let go to yell at each other and blame each other when it turned out that Malfoy was angry that he still had to go to work, whereas Harry was keeping well enough with the savings his parents had left him. And to get into shoving and pummelling matches when Malfoy, who was looking increasingly malnourished, had given into temptation and eaten half the food Harry had got in, while Harry had made a day out of going along to Diagon Alley to buy new robes for the term which would start in just under a month.  
  
This clenched jaw-occasionally breaking into violence-followed by angry silences and unresolved arguments week was leading into a very similar week two, when there was a chance to get out. Not a chance. They had to get out.  
  
It happened exactly 13 days after Harry had found himself playing housemate with the one person he has never expected to have to share anything with, and after shelling out quite a bit of money to live in the flat and afford substantial food, as well as his wizarding needs which he was finding more useful now that he was 17, and had still managed to keep Malfoy in the dark that he was in fact a legally qualified wizard now.  
  
On the 13th day, the weather was great. It was sunny and the temperature was pretty high considering English weather patterns. Harry returned to the bottom of the apartment building around 11.30 pm because if there's one thing you should do in that area of London, it's check out the posher bars. Which he had been doing. At first, he didn't look up, because his key was caught on a thread at the bottom of his pocket. He giggled to himself because he was drunk. Then he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He started and swung round, ready to punch whoever it was right in the nose, but it was Malfoy.  
  
"Hello Draaaco!" said Harry happily, swaying on the spot, "my key ish shduck in my pocket! I was shick in the hedge!" Malfoy didn't answer, or notice that Harry had called him Draco instead of Malfoy. He was staring at something above Harry's head. And he looked more than terrified. Harry swung round and squinted blearily at the sky. And sobered up faster than you can say 'Butterbeers on Neville'. "Its- oh Circe."  
  
Painting the night sky, almost luminous against the dark blue velvet above, the Dark Mark hovered over the apartment building like a signpost, marking the whereabouts of what were steadily becoming the most frightened wizards in Britain.  
  
"How did they find us?" whispered Malfoy. Harry may have been drunk as a fish, but the fear he heard was very real. "Father -no, he's in Azkaban still." Harry got his wand out of his back pocket.  
  
"I'm 17. I just didn't tell you. Come on." They edged towards the building and slipped inside. Harry had his wand out in front of him, every fibre of his body was taut. They passed open apartment doors, the rooms beyond trashed, and any muggles within lay dead, their eyes open, as if they had been frightened to death.  
  
They reached the door they sought. But it was intact.

* * *

The next part will feature Grimmauld Place so look out for your fave characters (mine are Fred, George and Lupin -hint! lol)

thanks for reading, xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	7. part seven: no12

I'M BACK AFTER TAKING TIME OUT TO BUY THE WORLD FROM EBAY AND GO SHOPPING AND OTHER EQUALLY IMPORTANT TASKS. SO JUST TO RE-CAP, HARRY AND DRACO HAVE RETURNED TO THEIR APPARTMENT BUILDING TO FIND THE INHABITANTS DEAD AND THE DARK MARK HOVERING ABOVE -NOT V NICE REALLY.

Btw, I should point out that there have been no disclaimers on my chapters because I put it in the summary to save myself the trouble! But in case of confusion (uh-huh...) I don't own Harry Potter or any associated characters. I did create Hortense and am pretty pleased with myself, and I am thinking up this plot as I go, lol. I also own the latin dictionary I'm using to help me make up new spells when I need them. :p xxxxxxxxxxxxx enjoy!

* * *

LAST LINE OF PART 6  
  
They reached the door they sought. But it was intact.

* * *

PART 7 OF FLYING THE NEST-  
  
Malfoy put his key in the lock and turned it, Harry covering them with his wand. For once there was no doubt that this was a situation in which they were both in exactly the same boat, and would always watch each other's backs. They took in a simultaneous breath Malfoy glanced at Harry, who nodded, and swung the door of the flat open.  
  
And got the shock of their lives.  
  
"Boys! My safe boys!" Dumbledore rose out of the brown armchair, looking both overwhelmingly relieved and impossibly concerned, almost as if he had been severely worried, if not terrified for them. He blinked for a second and muttered "componere!" they heard the sounds of their clothes and other luggage obediently packing themselves away.  
  
"Professor-" said Harry, but couldn't think of anything else.  
  
"What happened?" said Malfoy, urgently, being able to think more clearly without being addled by drinks, "how did they know we were here?"  
  
"Those muggles you have ...acquainted yourself with must have been followed, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore grimly, "they couldn't tell the death eaters exactly where you lived of course, but the building itself was never under a full concealment charm due to the other residents." Dumbledore paused again before continuing in a far more uncomfortable and piteous tone: "and I feel it is my duty to tell you that those young ladies were... they are... I am very sorry Draco."  
  
Harry swayed and shoved his wand back into his back pocket. Malfoy swallowed and sat down on the sofa. His head bowed, and a vein near his eye became more visible. His hands were white as they gripped his knees, his whole body suddenly taut with tension. Harry tried not to look at him because Malfoy was striving not to cry.  
  
"What happens now, sir?" asked Harry, staring at his bedroom door which edged open and his trunk, broom and Hedwigs cage started floating into the lounge. Malfoy's luggage, despite his recent poverty, seemed to be taking up a great deal more space.  
  
"You must both leave, in a moment," said Dumbledore, quietly. Malfoy's shoulders began to shake from his efforts. "I have produced a portkey that will take us to Grimmauld Place. It is completely secure, as you know, Harry. I misjudged both of your situations most grievously. Forgive me. It will not happen again." he sounded increasingly determined. Harry nodded. Malfoy drew another breath and glared at the floor, as if daring tears to escape.  
  
"What is this Grimmauld Place?" he asked, his tone tense and untrusting.  
  
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which you will be suitably informed of when we arrive," said Dumbledore briefly, turning his attention to a large pocket watch, and setting a small blue bottle on the top of the table the TV had stood on (the TV having just then drifted into Malfoy's bedroom for packing). "I am its secret keeper, and as we will not be taking chances, I thought it best to escort you myself," he added wearily. He rose and beckoned to the cases and cages, which came across to their owners. "We must ensure all luggage is touching some part of us," Dumbledore instructed, "good, -now put a finger on the bottle. Three, two....one..."  
  
Harry felt a hook around his navel and gasped as the minimalistic flat dissolved into a spectrum of merging colour and blurred images.  
  
They arrived in front of a large dark house of many storeys. "Think carefully of what I am about to tell you, and visualise it in your mind's eye, Dumbledore said to Malfoy: "Number 12, Grimmauld Place." Malfoy's expression flickered as the house swam into view.  
  
"I see it," he said dully.  
  
They knocked rather than ringing the bell, and waited patiently. The early August night was wonderfully inappropriate for their feelings. The air was fragrant with the lavender swamping the neighbouring house, a gentle breeze rippling over the old ivy above them. All was still, as if in lamentation for the deaths of Cassy and Heidi, who Harry could see in his mind's eye as the first time he had met them, teasing and giggling with Malfoy on the sofa at the flat. But there was a relaxed easy atmosphere outside of the trio that stood on the doorstep: one that they could not share. At length there were shuffling sounds from the other side of the door. Dumbledore whispered something absolutely inaudible, and touched his wand to the door handle. Harry assumed it was a password. Malfoy adjusted his cloak and assumed his trademark sneer, in an attempt to shake off any apprehension.  
  
The door opened slowly, emitting a low creak. A spider tumbled off the old doorframe and hung on its little thread for a second, legs flailing. Mrs Weasley's face appeared in the bluish light, creased with worry. Tension fell from her face as she took them in, exhaling with relief.  
  
"OH! Oh Albus, you had been so long! I had thought-! But shh now, come along to the kitchen. Quietly now, don't wake anything up! Mobilarus!" They followed her down the dank hallway, their possessions trailing along behind in mid-air. Harry glanced at Malfoy, who seemed to be trying to look at everything without detection, absorbing it, and privately noting some resemblances to his own house. FORMER house, he corrected himself. The manor would never be a home again. As they crept down the steps into the kitchen below, their luggage carried on past and up the large flight of stairs.  
  
"Oh, Harry my dear! Why didn't you come to the Burrow in the first place?" Mrs Weasley pulled Harry uncomfortably to her bosom and squeezed him tightly as she gave a hiccupy sob. "OH! Oh if something had happened! I wanted to send Arthur to -but he was at work -I- oh Harry! But, there now," she hastily recollected herself and released him. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him but mercifully did not comment. "There now, I will...make some tea. How do you like yours, Draco, dear?"  
  
Malfoy blinked, thrown off course by the offer of hospitality. His sneer dropped and was replaced by a curious mixture of embarrassment and fear which made him appear vulnerable and younger. "I -I beg your pardon?" he said cautiously.  
  
"Tea, darling, I'll make us all a cup of tea." Mrs Weasley repeated, kindly, "milk and sugar?"  
  
"Both. Please. Two sugars," said Malfoy haltingly. Mrs Weasley regarded him for a moment, then nodded briskly and turned to the big copper kettle on the hearth, and started directing the milk, sugar and tea bags with her wand. Harry and Malfoy turned their attention back to Dumbledore, who took out a small box from the depths of his robes and opened it. A large rectangle of light sprang out, covered in curly writing. Harry gazed at it; it appeared to be a list of some kind that Dumbledore had written for himself. A schedule. Sparkling at the top was a flashing message that read '11.23 and 42 seconds PM- Wizengamot.57474930...' there followed some odd numbers and some kinds of runes that Harry didn't understand. Dumbledore made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan, and shut the box, which squeaked: "VERY LATE!"  
  
"I know," muttered the old man, seemingly to himself. He smiled tiredly at Harry and Malfoy. "I am so sorry boys, but I must go. Now that I know you are safe.. well. I will return for the Order meeting soon, but Molly here," here he shared a brief smile of reassurance with Mrs Weasley. "will see you both to your rooms. These events will mean you must remain here for the duration of the holidays, I fear. But I give both of you my solemn promise: I will return here to see both of you in the remaining weeks."  
  
"Albus!"  
  
"Molly, it's alright. I will return to see you soon, but for now, just know that you are safe and... Harry, do remember your occlumency?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Good. Good. Goodnight boys. And please," his eyes gave a twinkle that they had not seen that night, one that lightened their hearts a little, "do try to get on, and don't aggravate the other... things." He smiled warmly at them again as if basking in the relief of their safety, before disapparating with a pop.  
  
Mrs Weasley turned to them and was about to speak when another crack made them all jump and Remus Lupin materialised in front of the two shaking boys. He stared from one to the other for a minute, his eyes tired and his hair across his face. "Thank Merlin, thank Merlin," he stated, shaking Harry's hand, and then Malfoy's, who looked greatly surprised. He turned. "Molly I only just received your owl. I thought -I feared the worst." His breathing hitched and Mrs Weasley steered him into a chair.  
  
"Sit down Remus, and drink some tea," she said firmly. Lupin nodded, and took a hold on himself before gesturing to the chairs in an invitation for Harry and Malfoy to sit, which they did. They were all presented with a large vat of tea. Harry had a mad worry about having to be up and down to the bathroom all night. "There's room here if you want to stay for a while, Remus. The boys can have the rooms on the third floor, I've cleared them all out, and they're quite clean and suitable. I'm afraid Buckbeak is still occupying...Sirius' old room," Harry and Lupin flinched. "but there's your usual room avaliable now that Mundungus has gone to Romania to help Charlie, so..." she trailed off.  
  
"Thank you Molly, but I fear I...that is, the change is in three days and I don't want to be a-"  
  
"You're not a burden Remus, you're a werewolf and there is nothing wrong with that in my book," said Mrs Weasley firmly. "I'll have Severus bring the potion here. We can owl him in the morning."  
  
"Professor Snape?" said Malfoy, eagerly. It was the first time he had willingly spoken that evening. "Could I see him?"  
  
Mrs Weasley gave him a look filled with pity. "Of course you can, dear," she smiled tiredly and looked at the clock. "Gandalf's staff, almost two in the morning! Come with me, or we'll never get sleep tonight!" They collected their tea, and followed her up the stairs. Harry noticed that Malfoy looked rather repulsed by the shrunken house-elf heads, and was glad.  
  
Their rooms were neighbouring, filled already with their belongings. Malfoy went straight into his and shut the door firmly. "There's a study opposite for you to do all your schoolwork," whispered Mrs Weasley gently. Harry nodded, and squeezed Lupin's hand again before entering his own room and shutting the door quietly. It housed a single bed with a warm-looking green coverlet. Against the opposite wall stood a rather creepy-looking dark wardrobe with clawed feet, and above the chest of drawers, which had serpent handles which he was sure had just stirred, hung a large ornate mirror, which snored from time to time. Harry got into bed still clothed, took off his glasses, and was about to put them on the floor when he remembered this was the Black house and he hadn't checked under the bed, so he put them on the window sill instead.  
  
He lay awake for hours until well after four in the morning, turned on his side away from the wardrobe, listening to Malfoy crying on the other side of the wall, groaning in pain from his nightmares, calling out for the girls whose deaths he felt were all his fault.

* * *

End of part 7 poor Malfoy you gotta feel sorry for him! I know Mrs Weasley is there but I felt they needed mothering. Ron etc aren't there cuz hey, it's not their house. Molly is really there cuz she's an important member of the order. Ron, twins, etc will probably crop up cuz they've gotta see Harry, but they won't for a while yet. Next part we can see Hortense again. I had to have Remus in this because I love his character an awful lot. 


	8. part eight: firewhisky and ciggies

I got a review from HpDeVoTeE asking how come Harry didn't have a bigger reaction to being back at Grimmauld place so I'm putting in that part -HpDeVoTeE, this is just for you! so please review it!

My thinking had been that Harry is about to go into his 7th year here so he would've had a year and then some to get over Sirius' death, and I assumed that in that time he would've gone to the house again. But HpDeVoTeE's comment gave me the idea to do a flashback. So there we are. ENJOY.

* * *

LAST LINE OF PART 7  
  
He lay awake for hours... listening to Malfoy...calling out for the girls whose deaths he felt were all his fault.

* * *

PART 8 OF 'FLYING THE NEST'  
  
**flashback to Harry at the end of his fifth year, upon first re-entering 12 Grimmauld place after the death of Sirius**  
  
Harry stood immobile on the doorstep, waiting. His hands were clammy and the top of his head felt strangely cool and wet, as if an invisible flannel was mopping his brow. It was extremely uncomfortable, but he didn't want to wipe his brow because the door might open and he'd be caught looking vulnerable. Harry was sick of people feeling sorry for him. He knew that everyone meant well, but tragic little boy who's lost his parents and now a godfather he was only just getting to know properly, isn't the image any teenage boy wants following him around. 'not LOST,' he reminded himself sternly. Dead. Murdered. And no amount of tears and moping would bring any of them back. The best thing a hero can do is to put the past on a shelf, and try to only take out the happy memories. And to beat the shit out of the bastard responsible. Harry gave a great sniff because his nose had been running as he had been thinking about not crying. Snot cascaded down the back of his throat in a rush and he coughed. He wiped his sticky hands on the backs of his trouser legs and swallowed. The door gave a sudden bang, and dust fell onto his shoulders from the underside of the porch. He knew Mrs Weasley was wrestling with the large inner bolts. He raised his chin and blanked his face. He could stand this. But he didn't want a hug. Or her beaming smile. If he saw that he wasn't sure if his resolve would hold.  
  
"Oh, Harry," said Mrs Weasley when she finally got the door open. She did smile but this one was sad and weary. He blinked at her. Thank God. She didn't seem to be giving him a pity smile too. This strengthened him. He hated t when people pitied him. Mrs Weasley didn't hug Harry. She gave him a brief, motherly peck on the top of the head and beckoned to his suitcase, which sailed past her and up the stairs. "Ron's not here and I wanted to give your last room a clean, so I've put you up in one of the singles that Bill was using," whispered Mrs Weasley as they tiptoed past the sleeping portrait of Sirius' mother.  
  
Sirius.  
  
Did that name have to pop into Harry's head just then? He followed Mrs Weasley's red head, but he felt like he was drowning in memories. Sirius was everywhere. Over there was where he had shouted at his mother...and there, there he'd become a dog to take Harry to the train station at the beginning of last year...now they were descending into the kitchen, where Harry had so often seen him slouch against that very doorframe, staring moodily at them...they sat at the table where he and Sirius had talked and talked, just getting to know each other...over there by the range Sirius had berated Kreacher for...for... Harry didn't want to think any more.  
  
"Hello, Harry." Distracted, Harry snapped his attention to Remus Lupin, who was sitting at one end of the table. Harry had been so wrapped up in the torrent of memories that he had failed to notice him. Lupin's hair was slightly silvery in the moonlight. His chin was lightly dusted with stubble, and there was a large, newly healed thin tear across part of his neck, which suggested that despite the Wolfsbane, the Moony side of Lupin was dealing with the loss of Padfoot with violence rather than the rational calm that he always attributed to the man. His smile was genuine enough but it only just reached his eyes, whose usual entrancing amber lights were dull, almost extinguished.  
  
The air became heavy between them. Harry could feel it pressing, and sagged his shoulders. "Hello Professor," he returned. They all paused. Harry could feel Mrs Weasley standing behind him. Lupin's forehead creased. Harry was overwhelmed with sadness for him. Because Lupin could almost be in the same boat as him. Both his best friends dead, the other...a traitor who could have no memory anymore. Lupin rubbed his right hand over the lower part of his face, scratching the stubble. "It's alright, isn't it, for me to be here?" said Harry, groping for a new topic, trying to quell the silent conversation they'd been having. He didn't want to have to talk about Sirius. Anything but that. Everyone wanted him to open up. Well he didn't, and he was sure as hell that Lupin didn't feel like it much either. "Dumbledore wants me to go back to the Dursleys' next week. He thinks we all love each other 'deep down'." Harry babbled on.  
  
Lupin latched onto the subject immediately, and in the course of the evening their conversation, sometimes with a little input from Mrs Weasley, managed to cover the Dursleys, Muggles in general, the rules of that religion of 'football', Quidditch, the Quidditch League (of which Puddlemere united were currently at the top of), training, Hogwarts, Snape's teaching methods, and Occlumency. Not once did they mention Sirius or Voldemort. someone would change the topic just in time. It was tiring, but surprisingly fulfilling for Harry.  
  
He slept in a room that was small and bare but strangely comfortable. It was one of the few rooms that didn't seem to have any obviously creepy elements about it, and in the House of Black this was rare. There was a desk with a high-backed chair, and a single bed with fresh lemony bedding on it. he didn't dream, but when he woke up in the morning he had a strange sensation that he was fallen into the bed from a height, which happens to many people but particularly unnerved Harry, so he got up.  
  
He dressed and had a nose in the desk. It was a new desk relative to the other antiques crowding the house. The two top drawers contained notes and files that were dated as recent. They were all folders relating to Gringotts, with Bill's signature on little white labels. Harry flicked through some of these. Clearly Bill still came back to the house now and then because it was still being used for the Order, and had left things for work in 'his' room. The papers were all covered in numbers and codes that meant nothing to Harry, so he closed those drawers.  
  
The bottom drawer was stuck because it was crammed with a lot of paper. Harry tugged at it. He thought maybe it was locked, in which case he couldn't open it because he didn't have a key, and couldn't use magic because he was underage. He kicked it in frustration and without warning the drawer shot out of place and landed painfully on his left foot. "fuckinmerlinbollocks," groaned Harry, freeing his foot and massaging his toes. Then he dropped to his knees. Staring up at him was a photograph of Sirius. Harry hesitated, and picked it up gingerly, smoothing it out on his knees. It was definitely Sirius, but he was young, handsome, an arm slung around the shoulders of his companion who was Lupin. A Lupin without grey hair, without that tired look, and not even with that quiet, calm, studious look. Both of them were holding a large bottle of Firewhisky. Harry choked, he wanted to cry but tears wouldn't come. He wasn't overwhelmed with sadness, even though every part of him was thinking about Sirius, and he'd been trying to avoid anything of the sort. The friends were laughing at something that would have been just behind Harry if he had been there. He assumed it was the photographer. Sirius turned his head and started laughing at Lupin, who was laughing so hard at whatever the joke had been that he had fallen into a hedge in a drunken mess. Harry started at it for a moment as the occupants kept laughing and laughing. It was the happiest photo he had ever seen, including the one of his parents holding him as a baby. It made him smile properly.  
  
He sifted through the rest of the box. It contained photos, old Hogwarts timetables, incredible first plans for what appeared to be the marauder's map... It was like a little mine of memorabilia.  
  
He found other photographs. Sirius kissing a girl with shiny auburn hair, giving the camera a look over her shoulder that definitely read 'I've pulled'. Sirius and his father, James, transforming into a proud stag, and a big black dog. And at the very bottom, Lupin without Sirius, favouring instead the company of a girl with long, impossibly blonde-white hair. Harry couldn't see her face at all, because her curtain of hair was covering her face, but just before he shoved the photo back into the box with the others, he saw Lupin lean in and kiss her. Harry studied the photo against the last one with Lupin in it, and realised that this last photo, seemed to be the most recent. Of course, Lupin was only a young man still, but he crammed everything back into the drawer anyway and picked the whole thing up, and sought out his ex-professor. Lupin was in the study with his back to the door, gazing unseeing out of the large window. Harry coughed, and set the drawer down on the desk.  
  
Lupin turned and smiled tiredly. "What's that you're got there, Harry?" He sauntered over to the desk and picked the first photograph of the top, registered it and promptly dropped it before collapsing into the chair. His breathing hitched. Harry watched him cautiously. Then, as if commanded, Lupin began to frantically pick up and scan every little scrap of paper, recalling every memory. He burst out laughing at some of the images. I cannot describe to you the feelings that he felt because they were so enormous, no, colossal, that they overwhelmed every inch of him, and even attacked watching Harry. Lupin began crying freely while he gasped with laughter. Harry supposed he should probably turn away and give him some privacy, but he didn't because he was too engrossed in Lupin's reactions to everything that was flooding back to him, shaking him, grabbing for attention. For ten minutes, Harry didn't speak, and Lupin was incapable of speech.  
  
"Firewhiskey," said Lupin, suddenly. He was gripping the crumpled photo of himself and Sirius, drunk as parrots, laughing and laughing. He raised his face to Harry's. It was streaked with salt. But it was all happy salt, so that was okay. "Sit down Harry." Harry sat in one of the armchairs while Lupin conjured a fire in the grate and thrust a glass of Firewhiskey into his hand. "But professor, I'm not of age-" said Harry, dubiously. Lupin flapped his hand and poured himself a double before plonking himself into the armchair opposite. They drank. Lupin poured seconds, which Harry didn't object to, and then they drank again.  
  
And half way through Harry's third measure, they talked about Sirius. They talked about all of it.  
  
**End of flashback**  
  
Harry woke up in a strange bed. He put his glasses on and was confronted with the creepy-looking wardrobe. This made him remember exactly where he was, why he was there, and also that he had yet to check under his bed for any...organisms. "Lumos," he muttered, and directed his wand light into the gloom beneath the bed. He took a dose of courage and tilted his head over the side. Bare. he heaved a sigh of relief. Mrs Weasley had cleaned the room out. Thank God. He checked his watch. It was just after nine, which for him was late, so he swung himself out of bed and pulled random garments out of his trunk. In three minutes he was dressed hap-hazardly in baggy jeans, one of Dudley's old shirts which looked like a tent, and a threadbare jumper that Mrs Weasley had knitted him two Christmases ago. He opened his bedroom door. The corridor was deserted but he thought he heard movement in the study opposite that Mrs Weasley had said he and Malfoy could use for their homework. He hesitated, his hand on the knob.  
  
Harry entered and stopped short. The study had enormous high windows which were currently open. Malfoy was sitting on the window sill, smoking. Harry leaned against the doorframe. Malfoy took a drag and inhaled slowly.  
  
"You sleep late for a servant," he remarked sourly, and exhaled, tilting his chin up so that he blew a column of smoke up above his head. Harry gritted his teeth.  
  
"Is professor Lupin still here?" he said, civilly. Malfoy shrugged unhelpfully and flicked some ash over the window ledge. Harry studied him. The skin below his eyes was pink and blotchy. Malfoy had been crying. "It wasn't your fault, you know," began Harry, because he felt it was important that someone said this to Malfoy, "you know, that Heidi and Cassy-"  
  
"Shut up Potter." said Malfoy cuttingly, not looking at him. Harry silenced. Malfoy chucked his fag out of the window and immediately scrabbled in his pack for another one. He paused, then offered them to Harry. "One's not going to kill you, Potter," he drawled. Harry scratched his cheek, then wandered over, pretending to be unconcerned, and took one. Malfoy smirked and passed him the lighter. Harry took a drag. And choked. "Don't inhale if you're not used to it," said Malfoy, releasing another column of smoke into Harry's face.  
  
" 's disgusting. Tastes 'orrible," said Harry, taking another experimental puff and finding it equally horrible. Malfoy considered him, then stuck Harry's cigarette in his mouth as well. "You like them?"  
  
"No Potter. You stupid muggle-lover, if I didn't like it I wouldn't do it. Anyway. I don't do it very often. Just...sometimes." Malfoy frowned and stared out of the window again. Harry had been about to protest about the phrase 'muggle-lover', when Malfoy said, "imagine falling out from all the way up here..." he leaned further to the edge. Harry, on instinct, grasped his arm. Malfoy yanked away from him and came back into the main part of the room. He rubbed his arm fervently. Harry realised that he had inadvertently grasped the unfinished Mark. Malfoy was staring at him oddly. "No wonder Snape never touches you," he said.  
  
And that remark brought them to some kind of understanding.  
  
Three days later, Lupin was still at Grimmauld Place. A shadow had fallen over the foursome. Mrs Weasley had been engrossed with files and plans concerning the Order, which she had been attending to in the main study, where Harry remembered drinking Firewhisky with Lupin and getting hammered. As a result, the room was covered with so many shields and enchantments to prevent to two boys entering, that the door seemed to vibrate whenever they approached it.  
  
Harry and Malfoy had dutifully got down to some work, or else raided the various ancient bookshelves, which was not always a good idea, as some of the tomes there tended to snap a little.  
  
And for Lupin, the full moon had rolled round again.  
  
So three days after the morning Harry had tried smoking for the first time, the four sat at the long kitchen table. Harry was picking at his sprouts. Malfoy was fuming because Lupin had flooed to see Snape for the wolfsbane, but he had as yet been unable to see him. Mrs Weasley was watching Lupin uneasily. Lupin was staring at the smoking goblets in front of him. Snape had insisted on a double dose for a werewolf in the same house as two sleeping boys and a middle-aged woman. He had downed one. The other stood before him, smoking. They were all interrupted by the doorbell, and the screams it provoked from Mrs Black's portrait. Mrs Weasley went. Harry took the opportunity to tip his sprouts into the bin. They waited. If it was Order business, Mrs Weasley would return alone. If not...  
  
Mrs Black's screams died down. The silence was loud. Lupin was half getting up to investigate, when there were footsteps on the stairs. Two sets. Lupin's countenance changed swiftly. Harry spun in his seat.  
  
"Hey kid," said Hortense, (this directed to Malfoy, who had stood up very quickly), "hi Harry." she smiled at them both, but especially at Malfoy. It was a proper smile, with twinkling eyes and wrinkled lines. Her gaze moved... and her smile dropped as if it had fallen off her face. She looked first astonished, and then oddly closed. Harry and Malfoy both stared at Lupin because he appeared to be frozen. Harry saw her glance at the goblet and comprehension sneak into her eyes. Then all in a moment these signs vanished. Lupin sat and continued to stare at the goblet, and Hortense gave Malfoy a bone-cracking hug. Harry heard her whisper "I was so worried, I was so worried..." they broke away. Malfoy glared at Harry. Mrs Weasley noted it.  
  
"We should go to bed," she said, firmly. "Remus-"  
  
"I'll be fine." said Lupin, in a flat voice. Malfoy took off up the stairs. He didn't need Potter to take the piss out of him and Hortense. And Lupin had started to unnerve him. Werewolves...  
  
Harry pretended to wash his plate. He heard Mrs Weasley say "I'll stay with you Remus..."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lupin down the second goblet of wolfsbane and shudder.  
  
"No Molly, you go to bed. I'll stay," said Hortense.  
  
And Harry was ushered off to bed.

* * *

Ok on my computer thats 6 pages long so I hope you liked it! It took ages to write -I'm so bad at writing feelings, feel free to flame me on that, lol. I know it's turning slowly into a bit of a darkfic too, but I'm considering having the Weasley clan come and lighten things up a little. Also I will be developing Hortense muchly because she is the only creation in here that is Mine so I want her to be important! . BUT SOME SCARY THINGS HAVE TO HAPPEN IN THIS BECAUSE DON'T FORGET THEY'RE STILL BEING SEARCHED FOR BY VOLDIE. 

please all Rn R -even if you hate the fic because then, as this chapter testifies, I just try to make it all a bit better.

Love Skinny xxxx


	9. part nine: the only one left

It's been a long time coming. for that, my apologies. Just done a heap of French. I still have a bloody long textiles essay, but hey, we need some HP. I will probably have to start this then save it, as time rather short -oops, 20 past 10. n/m... lol. ok let's get right into it. I said I wanted Hortense to play a large part, so here we go:

Oh, btw, I also remembered that though my last update was devoted to HpDeVoTeE, I forgot to tell Brenna8, thanks for unhelpful review, after which you have been nicknamed Fudge by my mates for calling me 'm'dear'. Also thanks to the 2nd Earl of Brunswick: I love you, and I love your name!

A few people commented that I don't put disclaimers on my chapters -basically, I forget but I don't think anyone would be fooled that I was JK Rowling, and also I wrote a disclaimer in the summary.

Enjoy. xxxx

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LAST LINE OF PART 8  
  
(ok I admit I can't remember, but it was something like:) Harry was ushered up the stairs.

* * *

PART 9 OF 'FLYING THE NEST'  
  
Harry rested his big toe, on his right foot, on the step below him, because he couldn't remember which one creaked. He tested his gently. It made a low purr and he took his toe off it and stepped down two at once. Two more steps would take him to the arch at the bottom; the kitchen doorway, which was open. It was quarter to five in the morning, just after dawn. Harry was wearing the invisibility cloak, his boxers, dressing gown, and was regretting not putting any socks on. He had worn the cloak because he didn't want to risk Mrs Black's portrait waking up and noticing him. At least, that is what Harry was telling himself. He was really snooping.  
  
He was snooping on Lupin and Hortense. You see, Harry was seventeen. And seventeen-year-old boys who can't get to sleep may do two things: have a wank, or go downstairs to see what was happening with the subjects of his subconscious that had woken him up. Not literally, but Harry had gone to sleep wondering why Hortense had offered to stay in the kitchen with Lupin and witness his transformation, then he had slept fitfully before jolting upright in bed, and, avoiding the gaze of the creepy wardrobe, had shrugged on the dressing gown and cloak on gone off to spy on them.  
  
Harry stood in the arched doorway. He had walked into a conversation.  
  
"...feel so confused. I am 27, Remus, I'm too young for this kind of responsibility. Of course I had met Draco before, that's what the Malfoy/ Lestrange family is all about, putting up a united front. But I never thought I would see him again at all, after I left. But with Narcissa dead, Lucius in Azkaban, the rest of that stupid lot completely over to the dark side, or else dead or as good as dead rotting in a cell, I think I am... the only one left." Hortense sighed. She was standing in front of a shirtless Remus Lupin, cleaning a large, deep scratch on his back. Lupin was facing away from Harry, bracing his arms on the edge of the sink, his head bowed a little over the bowl.  
  
"Draco must realise the stress you are under," murmured Lupin. He sounded weary, spent.  
  
"Does he Hell. I don't think he even likes me. I'm just there. I can't explain it, it's like some of the time he seems desperate for someone to turn to. Remus...I just don't know if I can be that person." She dabbed a cloth into a bottle of light green potion. "Other times, like when Harry's there, or when...the girls...were there, he's just an amazing kid to hang out with. He's mature, kind of, laid back. But I dunno, it makes me feel bad 'cause it's all an act. If he would just tell me what kind of relationship we should be pursuing... I don't know what to do." She crossed the bandages over. Lupin turned to face Harry. Behind him, the other side of the worktop, was a large window with no view but a hedge. Harry could see their reflections in the glass. He could see Hortense's expression even though she had her back to him. She seemed on the verge of tears, valiantly holding them in tightly. She pinned the bandages securely and moved to another cut.  
  
"Hortense..." Lupin groaned and wriggled under the cloth covered in potion. Hortense looked up. "is this really necessary? I'll just get Molly to patch me up when she wakes up."  
  
"You'll get infected. Is it always...like this now? I thought the wolfsbane- "  
  
"I wouldn't have bitten you," said Lupin urgently. Hortense smiled and shook her silvery-blonde hair further over her face. He shrugged. "Always. Nowadays... ever since Sirius... It's the only bit I can't control."  
  
"It must hurt a lot when you come back."  
  
"There are worse things."  
  
Hortense looked up sharply. Harry decided perhaps there was more to that remark than... he realised he had inadvertently stumbled into a very private moment, and should go back to bed. Lupin reached out and traced Hortense's bottom lip with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Hortense put the cloth on the worktop.  
  
Harry turned to get out of there.  
  
And nearly crashed straight into Malfoy. Who was not wearing his invisibility cloak, and was stepping over the creaky stair. Harry pressed himself against the wall to avoid collision. Malfoy had stopped dead, each foot on a different stair. He stared at the couple in the kitchen, and felt mad with envy.  
  
Harry glanced back into the room. Hortense and Lupin were standing much closer to each other.  
  
"I never stopped loving you."  
  
Harry blinked. Hortense blushed. Lupin smiled the most wonderful smile any of them had seen in a long time. "I still love you, 'tense," he brought his head down.  
  
Harry gaped. Malfoy uttered a quiet gasp, which went unnoticed. It was highly surreal, watching your half-naked ex-professor snogging a shockingly beautiful girl in the kitchen of his dead best friend, while she ran her hands over his back, and his arms circled her waist. It was a truly happy moment. Which was quickly spoilt.  
  
"Get the FUCK away from her!! You animal, you worthless animal!" Malfoy had rushed past Harry too fast for him to prevent it. Hortense and Lupin had sprung apart. Hortense looked angry, Lupin slightly humiliated.  
  
"Get a grip on yourself, you silly little boy!" said Hortense. She was luminescent with fury.  
  
"That man, that THING, is a werewolf!" hollered Malfoy. It was a wonder he didn't wake the house. "How can you trust him, how can you LOVE HIM!? He will hurt you! he's just a beast, an animal! Abnormal!"  
  
Lupin sat down at the table.  
  
"Shut up! Shut UP! Why are you always trying to control me? We don't even know each other Draco! Remus is never going to hurt me!"  
  
"Then what is THAT on your FACE?!"  
  
There was a pause. Malfoy was breathing heavily. Hortense and Lupin were staring at each other with expressions of shock. In heated argument, Hortense's hair had been pushed off her face. To reveal a scratch. A long scratch. A thin scratch. not very deep, but red and in enough contrast to the rest of her pallor, that it marred Hortense's complexion.  
  
"Remus I... Remus it's nothing."  
  
"Oh my God."  
  
"Remus..."  
  
"I did that to you. My God..." Lupin cradled his forehead in his hand.  
  
Hortense rounded on Draco. "Why are you interfering?"  
  
"Don't you see, he's dangerous! He could kill you!"  
  
"Why the Bloody Hell would you care?" Hortense was livid.  
  
"Because you're the ONLY ONE left!!!"

* * *

END OF PART 9. IT'S SHORT BUT IT'S IMPORTANT. NIGHT NIGHT LOVE SKINNYRITA XXXXXXXXXXXX 

ps please RnR! helpful flames accepted -non flamers welcomed with beaming smile :-D


	10. part ten: sssnakesss

Hi I'm at home with the fluey so I thought -hey let's do my backlog of homework! .... then I sobered up and wrote this instead. Ok I will start in a min, just need to go be sick... ok I'm back and I've been gone so long (leaving internet on -ooopps) that it's time for 'neighbours' so adios!!! ok I'm back and I've been in paiiiin all day!!!! ok on with tale...

* * *

LAST LINE OF PART 9 "Because you're the ONLY ONE left!!!"

* * *

I've realised that I didn't do Hortense's accent last time -it might have been a bit hard to do with such long dialogue. But I'll make an effort from now on :)

* * *

PART 10 OF 'FLYING THE NEST' 

The window steamed up and cleared itself over and over again, so that you couldn't have seen out of it even if you had wanted to, which would have been difficult anyway because the outside was covered in ivy and grime. The glass was cool and slightly clammy with condensation that soaked through the stray strands of hair across Malfoy's forehead. He exhaled, misting the window again. He felt ashamed but he didn't know it. The feeling was one he couldn't recognise, so he had interpreted it as a small dose of resentment, mixed with a headache -hence why he was cooling his forehead on the windowpane.

He had felt so angry and envious when he had seen... what he had seen. It didn't need a caption. He didn't want to remember it. His head pounded again and he shifted his head to a cooler part of the window. It was pounding because he desperately needed to cry, scream, vent his frustration, hex someone, or kill that bloody werewolf. A small nagging voice that sounded like Potter piped up inside his head: 'but he said he Loved her...' Malfoy growled at the voice and it quietened. Hortense was... he didn't know what to make of her. Hell, they'd only met, what-? Four months ago? Five? He didn't need to share her. And it was...kind of ok, having someone to rely on for a bit. She'd never mentioned Lu- the werewolf.

Harry was sitting in the deserted kitchen drinking tea. He wondered if Hortense had gone to see Malfoy after Lupin had disapparated. He felt very guilty for snooping. And almost sorry for Malfoy. Almost. You can't really get too much compassion for someone you've hated for 6 years, but Harry knew what it was like to be an orphan -or as good as orphaned. He was also curious. He didn't know why or how Narcissa Malfoy had died, and he certainly wasn't going to ask Malfoy or Hortense about it. He himself had helped send Lucius to Azkaban at the end of his fifth year, and was even gladder for that after seeing Malfoy's arm.

Harry washed up his cup and put it back in the rack. Draping the invisibility cloak around himself he crept up the stairs into the hall and nearly bumped into a stack of cauldrons that Mundungus had left there. They wobbled. Harry froze. They steadied. Harry breathed again.

In his room Harry could not sleep. It was nearly half 7 in the morning, soon everyone would be up -if they weren't awake already. He heard the lid of Malfoy's trunk being kicked open. So he couldn't sleep either. 'Good', he thought spitefully, before feeling guilty again. Now he was trapped in his bedroom. The creepiest room he'd ever had to sleep in. He glanced at the wardrobe, and then at the chest of drawers with the serpent handles. He hadn't tried to open either yet. He scooted across his bed and sat on the end, examining the handles of the chest. If he squinted in the dull light, they looked rather life-like.

"Open," said Harry.

"Doesssn't cossst anything to have a little pleassse and thank you," said one of the snakes, sleepily.

"Er, right, sorry," said Harry.

"'Sss ok Missssster Potter. Nothing in my drawer anywaysss," said the little silver snake, uncoiling delicately and yawning. "Limussss wake up," it said to the handle of the next drawer. Limus didn't stir. "Sssorry he'sss asssleep," said the snake **(Note -Limus =latin for slime-I know it's terrible but I was outta ideas)**. "My name isss Anguisss." **(Note- Anguis is a Latin word for the snake star appearing in the constellation known as either 'the serpent' or 'Draco' -u can see why i thought that would be a nice touch!)**

"Pleased to meet you," said Harry cautiously, relaxing a little because the little snake appeared to be quite harmless.

"Ssso nice to have sssomeone else in thisss room after ssso many yearsss," said Anguis. "Another parsssseltoungue. Massster Regulusss used this room for a while but that wasss many yearsss ago -have you ssseen him about? He hasssn't used thisss room for at leassst thirty yearsss."

"Sirius' brother Regulus? I didn't know he was a parselmouth!" said Harry, feeling horrified that he was occupying the former death-eater's room, "no, no he's not here, he joined Voldemort -sorry, You-Know-Who..."

"Ssssilly boy," commented the snake, flicking the end of it's tail angrily.

"He's dead now," said Harry."

"Sssilly boy," Anguis repeated. "I thought it wasss ssstrange when sssomeone else ssstarted usssing thisss room."

"Who else has been in here?" said Harry eagerly.

The snake contemplated for a minute. "Let me sssee... Remusss Lupin. Nice boy... alwaysss folded his clothesss... pity i think he alwaysss thought I wasss telling him to go away... who elssse? I don't know, time hasss little meaning for a sssnake. But you remind me of sssomeone... no, lossst it.... well, some boysss with red hair. Twinsss I think. kept trying to open the wardrobe -sssilly thing to do; nearly lossst their handssss... but I know there wasss sssomeone elssse... much further back. At leassst twenty yearsss ago...no perhapsss less. But he only came once. Misstresss didn't like him at all. It wassss jussst before Massster Ssssiriusss left.... Jamesss Potter?"

Harry leapt up and squatted right next to the handle. "That's my dad!" he exclaimed, "well, was my dad anyway."

"Didn't fold any of hisss clothesss!!" said the snake crossly. Harry chuckled. Anguis frowned and was about to tell Harry off when the other snake woke with a jolt and said:

"Wassss all the noissse? I wasss sssleeping."

"Thisss is Harry Potter, Limusss. He wantsss to look in the drawersss."

"Then look and be quiet," snapped Limus, and his drawer slid smoothly open. Anguis curled up again. Harry pawed through the drawer. On the top was a red jumper that smelt of age and mothballs. Harry didn't want to touch it at first, but there was something compelling about that jumper.

Three hours later, ignoring Mrs Weasley's knock asking him to come down for breakfast, Harry was sitting on the end of his bed, staring at the garment clutched in his hands. A red sweater. V-necked. About his size. The front sported the Hogwarts crest on the left hand side in frayed embroidery. The back was. The back... _James Potter Chaser Gryffindor_. Another involuntary tear fell off his nose, staining the ancient fabric. This was something far more personal than the invisibility cloak. The other contents of the drawer lay scattered at his feet. They were irrelevant things -old essays for charms, a valentine to Lupin from someone called 'Ethel Hallow', a list of chess tournament scores. Someone must have put the jumper in the drawer years and years ago and forgotten about it. It would never have found his father again because he never came back.

Harry slipped the jumper over his head. It did fit. If it had only said 'seeker' on the back and wasn't so obviously old-fashioned, he could have passed it off as his own. He guessed it did belong to him now. There was another knock. Harry wrenched it open, expecting Mrs Weasley.

Lupin nearly had a heart attack. "James." he breathed, clutching the doorframe, before recovering. "Harry. Harry? Where did you -how did-" his gaze fell on the open drawer.

"Don't worry Professor, it's just me."

"I- I know. I know that," said Lupin, calming down. "But Harry -I thought I had seen a ghost."

"Sorry. I understand. Do you want me to take it off? It's pretty old anyway."

"About twenty five years old," said Lupin, "no, it's yours anyway. We never thought it might be here, I remember, James was certain Severus had taken it after a particularly brutal match against Slytherin." He stared at Harry again for a while. "You look...so much like him. I was going to ask if you wanted any breakfast. Molly's going spare down there because Draco didn't turn up either."

"I think I know where he is, tell Mrs Weasley we'll be down in a moment -I'll get him," said Harry, clearing the rest of the mess, excepting the jumper, into the drawer with a wave of his wand and exiting the room.

Malfoy was sitting on the window sill again, flicking his lighter on and off. "Malfoy."

"It's Draco." said Malfoy, turning. "I'm not a fucking Malfoy anymore. So please, relieve me of that one 'privilege'."

"...Draco, Mrs Weasley will have a fit if we don't eat something soon."

"You look like your dad in that jumper," said Draco. Harry looked at him. "I've seen some school photos. That's his, isn't it." Harry nodded once. "Yeah, you look like him a lot."

"You used to look like yours. But you don't anymore."

"Oh yeah? Who do I look like then? Dumbledore?"

"No, now you just look like Draco. Come on, she'll send us a howler if we don't get down there soon."

* * *

What a lot of dialogue!

AM I DRONING ON A BIT WITH THIS FIC? IT'S GUNNA COME TOGETHER SOON -10 PARTS IT'S ALREADY A BIT LONG! BUT I LIKE FINDING OUT THEIR PRIVATE CHARACTERS!

Dear reviewer Crystal: your wish is my command, here's part 10 so please review again and tell me what you thought!

**Important: does anyone know who writer 'DiamondsOnTheInside' is? Or if you are that writer can you please contact me?? I was reading your fic with Hermione and Malfoy as head boy and girl but then it said 'this member is no longer active'. I would really like to finish reading that! I must have the rest of it somehow! I check every week to see if their fics are back up but they never are! I'll cry if I can't find out what happens! It was the best Herm/Draco fic I ever read but I never got to the end! So can someone PLEASE fill me in!**

PLEASE R n R this fic! When it's done I might do another more Lupin based one –or attempt some LOTR. Love to you all, skinnyrita xxxxx


	11. part eleven: weasley news

It's late so i'll just get right into it...

* * *

LAST LINE OF PART 10

"Come on, she'll send us a howler if we don't get down there soon."

* * *

PART 11 OF 'FLYING THE NEST'

In the kitchen Mrs Weasley was throwing eggs at the frying pan and grumbling to herself about overtly skinny boys who needed beefing up, listening to her husband's report of his patrol for the Order which he had taken with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"...muggle shop -up an escapator Molly! It was turned off of course but I knew it right away-"

"YES Arthur," said Mrs Weasley, shovelling the eggs onto some toast and bashing the plates down on the table, "oh where ARE those boys?"

"Remus, Kinsley told me he's got a tip off -anonymous of course- that the aurors should focus on Lucifer's Creek on the 12th -probably another false alarm but it being your patrol with Severus...?"

"Of course we'll look into it, Arthur, but if it's another set up I doubt there will be an awful lot either of us can do," said Lupin, making notes on a long roll of parchment, "ah, Harry, Draco, we were despairing."

Harry and Draco stepped into the kitchen just as Lupin shrank the parchment to the size of a postage stamp and tucked it into his top pocket. Mrs Weasley did a double-take.  
  
"Harry -I -don't you suit that jumper well," she said. "Now come on!" she cried, grasping them both by an ear and steering them into spare seats, "your eggs will be stone cold!"

"Harry! Good to see you!" said Mr Weasley's head from the fireplace, "good morning young Malfoy, don't you both look well?"

"Good morning sir," said Harry **(I dunno why -is that in the book or just in the movies? he always seems to call Mr Weasley 'sir').** Draco prodded his egg with his fork and the yolk spilled across the plate. Suddenly they heard a lot of voices, seemingly from behind the fireplace: "Is that Harry?"  
  
"Da-ad! I want to speak to him!"  
  
"Ask mum if I left my jumper there!"  
  
"Dad we need to tell Harry-"

Mr Weasley's head turned to the side so that he could see the people accosting him before he disappeared to be replaced with Ginny.  
  
"Hi Harry, we heard about you leaving," she said, "you should've come to stay with us- Oh! Mum there you are, have you seen my jumper? -hello professor Lupin."

Harry noticed Draco looking at Ginny. And not in a sneering manner either.

"Yes dear, it was on the cat," said Mrs Weasley, stooping to give Ginny a kiss on the crown of her head. Ginny noticed Draco watching and blushed prettily.

"Then where's the cat?" she said. Mrs Weasley shrugged. "And mum! Fred and George have been trying out their new stock on me and they- ow!" Ginny's head was replaced by George who said,

"Don't listen to her mum, we're thinking of buying up the shop next door but I thought you might want a look in first -hey Harry!" he noticed Draco and his grin dropped. "Malfoy," he nodded, and was quickly replaced by Fred.

"Spiffing to see you, Harry old chum," he said cheerfully. Harry chocked on some crumbs. "Good, Good," said Fred, carefully avoiding Draco, "hi mum, we've got to make an offer by next Monday, so if you can swing by the shop -you can meet George's girlfriend- hey!"

There was a muffled shout of "She's not my girlfriend!"

"She IS," said Fred, "Ouch! OK! She's an assistant who -oh, right sorry Ron..."

Ron's head was the last to appear in the grate. "Mum I'm head boy!" he said happily, proudly.

"Oh _RONNIE_!" Mrs Weasley whipped round and started pinching Ron's cheek, showering him with kisses.

"Mu-um! Geroff! I want to speak to Harry!" he complained.

"Congratulations Ron," said Lupin.

"Oh- cheers professor," Ron grinned broadly, "got the letter this morning!" he frowned suddenly, "poor ole Hermione though -she reckons Pansy Parkinson's got head girl. Of course, she said she's already got enough on her plate but I thought she'd get it for sure-"

"Pansy's almost as smart as Granger," said a voice. Ron's head jerked in the fireplace. He stared at Draco for a second.

"I thought it would be you and Hermione, actually Malfoy," he said. Draco shut up.

"I knew you could do it," said Harry confidently. Ron beamed.

"Yeah that's what Hermione said," he blushed. Harry raised and eyebrow. Ron gave the briefest of nods. Harry grinned at him. "So, that's about it- I'm meant to be working at the shop right now anyway, I'm late for my shift and Fred might make me try another new invention -see you mum -come home for a bit, Ginny's a right pain!" he mouthed 'I'll owl you,' at Harry and disappeared from view.

Harry mopped up his egg yolk with the last of his toast while Lupin and Mrs Weasley talked about how hard Ron had been working and how glad they were that Dumbledore had noticed and rewarded this. Lupin remarked that Hermione had probably been quite truthful in her assurance that she would have been far too busy to take on any extra responsibilities. Mrs Weasley gushed that she always knew Ronniekins could be the third head boy in the family, and that he was growing up to be so much like Bill.

Harry saw that Draco was listening to their conversation but nothing in his countenance betrayed resentment. If anything, he looked rather relieved. "Congratulations, Mrs Weasley."

There was a pause. Draco scraped at the yellow patches left on his plate. "Thank you, Draco dear," said Mrs Weasley. "Well- I'll clear up these plates shall I?" She got up and began bustling around the kitchen again just as they heard the stair creak. Hortense entered, followed by a large owl carrying three letters and a parcel. Hortense glanced between Draco and Lupin and stayed standing. The owl dropped its charges onto Harry's lap and zoomed up the chimney. Two fat envelopes sporting the Hogwarts crest proclaimed Harry and Draco's names. Harry pushed Draco's across the table. The last letter was addressed to Lupin, and the parcel was for Mundungus Fletcher, c/o Mrs M Weasley.

Lupin scanned his mail, frowning, while Mrs Weasley prodded the parcel cautiously. It emitted a series of puffs before whatever was inside went 'jibb rabba! jibber bib babba! jibber jabber!' She conjured a small cage to put it in. "Severus wants me to go up to Snape Manor. He's concocted something for combination with wolfsbane."

"Vill you go?" asked Hortense, summoning a cup of coffee.

"You certainly will NOT Remus," said Mrs Weasley crossly, "doesn't he say when he's going to bother checking in on the boys? Albus was adamant that they should have occlumency lessons as soon as possible, I-"

"Molly calm yourself. I'll floo over there this morning and bring him back if I can."

Harry saw Draco's eyes glimmer with hope.

"I'll be back for dinner Molly, there are a few matters to be discussed," said Lupin, straightening his shirt and checking for his report absent- mindedly. He took a handful of floo powder from the pot on the mantelpiece and hollered "Snape Manor!" before disappearing into the green flames.

Mrs Weasley returned to the study where she had been holed up working when she wasn't cooking. Harry was about to strike up a conversation with Hortense, who had been largely ignored, when Draco muttered, "c'mon," to him, and slouched up the stairs.

They sat in their study in companionable silence for a while, Draco gazing unseeing out of the window again, Harry writing to Ron. Here is what he wrote:

"Hi Ron,

Congrats I really did think you'd make head boy! have you seen Hermione? You could both stay here; the house feels massive with just Draco for company -you know I think we've come to a truce? I dunno what it will be like at school though...

Anyway, what's going on? Any news--? There have been no meetings etc here but Lupin's stayed since we arrived and Hortense -she's Draco's 2nd cousin and very fit (you'd drool!) -got here yesterday. She and Lupin are an ITEM! Can't say more cuz I was kinda under the cloak...but Draco was livid, I thought he was ready to kill Lupin.

Anyway, I never saw that coming -should I see what else is going on? Snape is meant to be coming because I'm meant to do more occlumency (don't tell Hermione, she thinks I mastered it the first...three times. hmm.) but I really can't be arsed with that oppressive wanker.

Anyway, fill me in about you and Hermione!-?? What's happened? I'll try and get your mum to let you stay here,

write back, I'm bloody bored

see you soon (hopefully)

Harry.

ps- just realised I called Malfoy 'Draco' all the way through this cuz he said this morning to call him that -he's well confusing -very odd! -Do you know how his mum died??

Draco sat down at the desk and started doing a potions essay. Harry marvelled at his enthusiasm while he settled down to transfiguration, or rather tried to. He reflected for a while on the Animagi pages of his text book. He noticed he was still wearing his dad's jumper. "What use is a stag?" he said, out loud. Draco frowned at him.

* * *

END OF PART 11.

hey that was a bit long.

ok in this part I meant to explain how Hortense can be Draco's 2nd cousin and also have the surname Lestrange (as it probably wldnt be a common name), but I couldn't find anywhere to put it, so I'll just explain briefly:

Ok Hortense is Lucius Malfoy's cousin, that makes her Draco's 2nd cousin. However, she is Hortense LESTRANGE. Her brother marries Bellatrix Black _( did a lot of checking using page 105 of the order of the phoenix -chapter called the noble and most ancient house of black)_ and so she becomes Bellatrix Lestrange. As it happens (as we know), Narcissa Black marries Lucius Malfoy.

Thus these three wizarding pure-blood families (Black, Malfoy and Lestrange) are interlinked, just as Sirius remarks to Harry at the start of the Order of the Phoenix: " The pure-blood families are all interrelated."

ps- just also found that Bellatrix's husband is called Rodolphus. That means that Hortense has a brother called Rodolphus.

* * *

ok feel free to slap me for doing too much research.

**and please review!!!**


	12. part twelve: the potion

Hello before I do this yet again, lol, I should perhaps say that this fic is rather long already (as u know cuz u have to read it -hahahaha) but trust me I do know what's going to happen because obviously their summer hols can't last forever and that will probably be the end of our adventure. It is likely that some things will never be resolved in this fic. I have however, got the basic plots for this and the next chapter mapped out in my head. so onward we go....

* * *

Last line of part 11-  
  
"What use is a stag?" he said, outloud. Draco frowned at him.

* * *

Part 12 of 'Flying the Nest'-  
  
Draco Lucius Rhonchus (Latin-sneer) Malfoy paced the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Harry James Potter was sitting on the draining board with his feet in the sink, his brow furrowed in thought because he was engrossed with his potions essay which he had finally got round to. Harry reckoned that is Snape was likely to be coming round that night, it should at least appear that he'd attempted the homework they'd been set. He was debating within himself whether to ask Draco for help, he being the resident Potions geek. He glanced up. Draco was pacing. Up and down. Up and down. He'd wear out the floor soon and fall into the ancient foundations.  
  
Hortense apparated into view, almost on top of Draco who had been about to cover that bit of floor-space. He glared at her. She glared back and addressed Harry; "Has dere been any verd?"  
  
"No...Mrs Weasley hasn't left the study all day either. Don't worry -they'll be here, he's probably having trouble convincing Snape. He won't want to come here..." he trailed off and hid his nose behind his quill, absorbed in his essay, one that he knew Snape would be particularly interested in testing him on: the making process and administration of Veritaserum. Hortense glanced at it as she filled the kettle, trying to budge his feet out the way.  
  
"You haff put too much bicorn horn -you only need two shavings or de potion is too potent. Though you might vant a little more monkshood. It is de odour, it helps to affect the brain faster for a fast verking result."  
  
Harry studied what he'd written so far. "Hey, that's great!" he crossed out his mistakes and added a few more lines on how the making process was affecting how much potion to give the recipient. He brushed his chin with the tip of the quill in thought. "Hey, you should be a potions teacher."  
  
"I vos, for a time. At Durmstrang. I vos a student there. I took a position later to... to monitor de actions of Kararoff. He vos a Death Eater, you know."  
  
"Yeah, yeah I knew that," said Harry. Draco had stopped pacing and looked annoyed that Harry had been privy to this information before him, and had just made up his mind to have a fresh rant about this when there was a violent crash from the fireplace and a slightly sooty wizard flooed in. The wizard being no other than Severus Snape, former Death Eater turned spy, and Potions master of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Snape edged gingerly out of the grate, slowly, as if he was dragging something rather heavy. It was a few moments before the occupants of the kitchen realised that the man he was supporting was Remus Lupin.  
  
"Oh my God," Hortense rushed over to help him lift Lupin onto the table. His skin had turned a deathly pale, his blue veins standing out, his face was drenched in sweat and his whole body was shaking so much, despite the extra blankets and cloak that Snape had obviously wrapped him in to keep him from any cold, that the table rattled as he lay on it, slightly curled up, unconscious in a raging fever. Hortense felt his forehead and drew away quickly as though burned. She rounded on Snape who was conjuring a fire in the grate although it was the height of summer and the kitchen was warm enough for the others. "Vot happened, Answer me Severus, vot haff you done to him?"  
  
"It was my fault," Snape was pale. "I miscalculated one of the ingredients. I told him to wait till full moon to test it when he was stronger as a wolf but he said no. I should have prevented it." He drew a shuddering breath and pulled a hand through his hair. Harry gaped. He had never seen Snape on edge over anything. This was a man who had stood in front of Voldemort. "I've tried everything. I thought I had got everything just right, I had prepared a back up potion to neutralise it, I had... I miscalculated something. Probably the nightshade. Something I did made the back up potion... ineffective. Hortense," he grasped her upper arm and she locked her gaze to his. Snape's black eyes were swimming with something he obviously didn't encounter a lot in his potion making: defeat. Hortense's green orbs were frantic and afraid. "Hortense we might. We, might lose him."  
  
Hortense stumbled. Draco, who was behind her, studying Lupin with a terrified fascination, grabbed her by the waist and steered her into the nearest chair. She screwed up her eyes and took some deliberate breaths. "S- Severus. Ve haff only just found each other again." Draco's gaze flicked to Harry, who tried to look more puzzled. Lupin's body suddenly contorted and he let out a howl of pain. They all jumped except for Snape, who said,  
  
"I'll stay then. I have some utensils and ingredients here. I can mix him other potions so bring down the fever. But we will need to carry out tests first. I don't know how they would react together. This unfortunately is the price of producing a new potion. There are always ...undesirable consequences."  
  
"Undesirable?" said Harry, angrily. Snape whirled round to face him but didn't speak. Behind him, Harry noticed Draco shake his head. So he didn't continue.  
  
"I am trying to save Remus Lupin, Potter. Either help or shut up. Where is his room? I will administer the potions through a tube into his throat. And someone will have to stay with him."  
  
"I vill." it was instantaneous.  
  
"No," they turned to look at Draco. "Potter and I will stay with him until Mrs Weasley comes. You'll get things done faster if Hortense helps you with the potions."  
  
Hortense squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she whispered. Despite himself, Harry smiled slightly, secretly: Draco had given his consent.

* * *

OK SO THAT WAS V SHORT AND IM GETTING BITTEN BY MOSQUITOES! 

PLEASE REVIEW! XXXXXXXXXXX


	13. part thirteen letters RH

I feel that this fic is drawing to a close soon. I hope you have all enjoyed it, and please continue to review! This isn't the last chapter but I feel it is my duty to prepare everyone fore the enivitable. lol.

* * *

FLYING THE NEST PART 13-  
  
"Harry,  
  
Thanks for your letter -I can't believe it myself! I seriously thought Malfoy would be head boy (don't you dare tell him or I'll lock you in Fred and George's testing room), but I guess Dumbledore saw through him after all :-)!! Anyway, so I'm getting loads of stick for it from them (F n G) obviously but Bill thinks it's good cuz he was head boy and I haven't seen Charlie but I've owled him and he hasn't replied yet so anyway.  
  
A truce with Malfoy? I'll bet he's putting it all on: don't trust him. I can't imagine calling him by his 1st name it's too...familiar? Bloody hell didn't I sound like Herm then? It's catching. Um yes about her you wanted to know... well. I saw her in Diagon Alley but she was with her parents and I think they're a bit nervous of dad cos he kept asking them about how microwaves and espresso machines work. That's what his new thing is, by the way: household appliances. He wants to make mum a toaster thing -what's the point when a quick singeing charm can do it better? Anyway so we didn't really talk then but then I got my badge so I owled her because I thought she was head girl but she wasn't. But she said '...missed you an awful lot Ron, I was thinking do you want to meet up in this muggle town near me?' which I thought was a bit weird but I did last Tuesday and she said maybe we could go out properly so I said like, on a date? and she said: Yes.  
  
We're going to 'go out' on the first Hogsmeade weekend -you don't mind do you?  
  
From, Ron.  
  
PS- Malfoy's mother died because she was trying to stop the Death Eaters from doing something to Malfoy after his dad went into Azkaban. I don't know what though, that's all Bill would tell me -see if you can find out more somehow!  
  
PPS- Is Snape there? Are you doing occlumency? Bye -Ron."  
  
_"To Ron,  
  
Of course I don't mind you idiot! Go out with Hermione (or 'Herm')!!! Are you owling each other? You'd better be!  
  
Yes Snape's here. I meant to write you sooner about it but it's been hectic. He showed up with Lupin practically dead and we've all been trying to look after him cuz Snape's been doing his patrols and stuff for the Order too (which we're not allowed to know about) so Hortense has been making the restorative potions and me and Draco have to take it in turns to watch him all the time in case there's any change, which is more than boring I can tell you. He's all twitching all over at the moment (it's my watch).  
  
He just kind of howled which keeps happening and is seriously unnerving cuz it sounds... like the wolf inside him is trying to get out and personally that does not make me want to sit here! Mostly though he's just muttering to himself but we don't have any idea what he's saying. Hortense came and said something in Bulgarian and that made him quieten down for a while but then he started howling again after a few hours.  
  
Snape tested me on some Occlumency last night but I guess I was too tired after looking after Lupin and he saw me making a prat out of myself in front of Cho, I think.  
  
Ok I'm about to swap over with Draco so I'll owl you now -are you guys not coming here?  
  
Harry."  
_  
"Hi Harry,  
  
Does Malfoy have to do Occlumency? What do you think Snape sees in his head?  
  
Hermione sent me a black sweater? Is it that I'm not fashionable? Or is maroon not my colour? The label says 'French Connection' -what does that mean to you?  
  
Found out anything on Malfoy's mother's death yet?  
  
I asked dad about coming over there but to be honest he got pretty shirty, he thought I wanted to go there so we can gang up on Malfoy (not a bad plan). Gin says he's getting fed up running the house without mum. It's dead annoying really cos we haven't seen mum in ages.  
  
Sorry this is really short but I wanted to owl you before I went to the shop.  
  
How's Lupin?  
  
Owl me soon,  
  
Ron."  
  
_"Dear Ron,  
  
Yes Draco does occlumency we've just had it now, in this study room opposite our bedrooms, which was really awkward cuz it felt like being at school -not fun! But I DID manage to throw off Snape (be sure to tell Hermione if you're owling her -I practiced just for her), and I saw one of his memories which was really odd, it was him at school and he was playing Quidditch I think but then I realised he wasn't on a broom, he was playing basketball, which is this muggle sport. Why would Snape of all people be playing basketball? Anyway that was a bit weird. But he seemed impressed, for Snape so I had to cast the legilimens charm on Draco.  
  
So yeah well I saw his mum die. I forgot to tell you this I can't believe it cuz it's really important: Draco has the Mark on his arm. Before you freak out, it's not like the proper one, it's only part of it, it looks like a weirdly shaped scabby red scar thing. I'm so thick I never thought before how he could stop it once it had started. He said he didn't want it though, and Ron I do believe him. Anyway, that's why she died. She was trying to stop it. She succeeded but she died. And then all the Death Eaters kinda disapparated cuz Dumbledore got there pretty quickly (that man knows everything, I swear).  
  
He was so angry though when he realised what I'd seen. (Draco.)  
  
I haven't really said anything to him since then but I told Snape what I'd seen afterwards and all he said was 'keep your nose out Potter, your father was meddlesome too,' and went to check on Lupin.  
  
That reminds me -Lupin woke up today! He seemed really confused though, he kept speaking Bulgarian, Hortense was translating for us, he said he thought he was being tracked by wolves or something equally weird, and then he noticed Hortense and all he would say for hours is 'I love you' to her over and over again, and she started crying and stuff so we had to leave.  
  
Ok I wrote that last bit 2 hours ago. I just went in to see Lupin and he seems better -he's not talking Bulgarian anymore. He said he just feels very weak and wanted to make it up to Snape, which is stupid cuz it was that greasy git's fault in the first place.  
  
Anyway.  
  
I heard your mum telling Hortense that she wants to go back to the burrow for a while, but she seemed worried cuz Mundungus has offered to stay here -not her idea of protection I think! It would be better if Lupin wasn't ill. Snape has been locked in the big study (you know, the one with the Black family tree tapestry in it) all day, Merlin knows what he's doing but no one's gone in there.  
  
Still no Order meetings here.  
  
This has been a pretty long letter -things aren't all that good here right now.  
  
Got to go. I'm meant to 'relax my mind' before more bloody occlumency.  
  
Harry.  
  
PS- French Connection is a pretty pricey muggle high st shop. I'd say a sweater from there would cost about 60 quid? Dunno how much that is in wizard money -but a Lot. It's pretty upmarket."_  
  
"To Harry,  
  
Hi I've only just read your letter. Kingsley Shacklebolt came over to speak to Bill so the rest of us were listening on the extendable ears. They must've been having some kind of contact with Snape because apparently he's planning to stay at no. 12 til next full moon because he still reckons that potion he made had some effect on Lupin -but that's when we're at school! It's not fair, how will we know what happens? Also, You-know-who was sighted near here by a spy (dunno who it was)- have you had any scar pains? Just wondered.  
  
I told Herm about you n Snape. She said if you manage to get into His mind, maybe you will see what the Order is doing? I thought it would be a long shot, but you never know.  
  
Tell Lupin I said hi.  
  
Yeah dad said mum's coming home soon. I think they want Bill to stay with you guys. Ginny wants to see you by the way. She can take our list of new quidditch tactics over for you to have a browse over. They'll let her; apparently she's the responsible one (meaning he's the only one why doesn't work in a joke shop).  
  
Great, do I have to buy Herm an expensive gift? Cos -I can't.  
  
You freaked me out about Malfoy's Mark. Hmm, still thinking about that one.  
  
Maybe see you soon if dad gives in,  
  
From, Ron.  
  
PS- Hi Harry it's Ginny, dad just said I can come over there so see you then, I'll bring the quidditch strategy (promise me you'll lock it up, if Malfoy gets it we'll be slaughtered. This is a plot to rule all plots!). Tell Lupin I said hi and I hope he gets better. Can't wait to get away from all these clowns for a while. Love, Ginny. xx"  
  
_"Dear Ron,  
  
Say hi to the rest of the clan, but I can't write for a while after this. Snape said 'Potter I know you and Weasley share half a mouldy brain between you, but if you could refrain from drawing quite so much attention to the house with this incessant mailing...' the git. So this is my last one for a while but hopefully you can come here for the end of the hols.  
  
Lupin's up and about again but Snape and Hortense are making him lie/sit down as much as possible to rest, which I know he isn't doing. I suppose I can tell you this, but it was hard keeping it from Draco-I'm pretty sure I heard Lupin n Hortense having sex -I didn't mean to, obviously but I was meant to be taking him tea! So I left it outside the door. Hortense must know it was me cuz she's not talking to me much! Ew.  
  
No, no scar pains, though now I have mental images of Lupin which is GROSS. I had a dream that I owned hundreds of cats? But I think that's because I heard Lupin mention Mrs Figg.  
  
OK I'd better go, don't want to draw attention to the house, after all...  
  
Don't bother replying, I'll grind Bill down when he gets here (Ginny can help) and then you can come and stay.  
  
Ginny -see you tomorrow,  
  
from, Harry."  
_

* * *

END OF PART 13.  
  
NEXT PART- Ginny and Bill turn up. I may put in some Ginny and Draco because that would be cute. 


	14. part fourteen: smoking scar

Dear all I'm actually sitting here handwriting this on holiday in Spain -marvel at my dedication! lol. At the moment I am lying on my front on a sandy beach, surrounded by Spaniards, Italians and Germans, trying to get my back tanned. Now you are suitably jealous (mwahaha) I will continue with our tale.

* * *

last line of prev part (part 13 i think, I'm sure it wasn't 12. I have no idea. Hey, I'm sunbathing) –

I think it was: "from Harry."

lol cuz they were writing letters, Harry and Ron. The gist of it is, Mrs Weasley is going back to The Burrow, and Bill is filling her post at no. 12 and bringing Ginny with him. Expect some Ginny/Draco.

* * *

FLYING THE NEST PART 14-

It was half 12 in the afternoon. Harry considered getting down for breakfast and burrowed under the covers again.

"You sssleep longer than I do, ssslug-a-bed," said Limus reprovingly. Harry groaned and flung his pillow in the general direction of the chest of drawers. It hit the door, which opened and he screwed up his eyes against the hall light.

"Fuck off Draco and leave me alone," he said blearily.

"You have just insulted me on so many levels it's not funny."

Harry scrambled into an upright position and squinted at the figure in the doorway, fumbling for his glasses. "Hi, Ginny."

"Bill's downstairs talking to Snape. I think they're talking Order business cuz I had to 'bugger off'. Anyway, how are you? Stuck here with Malfoy, God. Where is he anyway?"

"Probably in the study opposite. He's always there. Er, Ginny, could I...?"

"Oh yeah, sorry you get changed, I'll...see you in the study."

Draco sat on the window ledge, looking down into the small, square courtyard below, which he puzzled over. it seemed rather ridiculous to him that the centre of no. 12 was an uncovered courtyard, surrounded by the formidable grey walls. Prowling round and round the relatively small space, though securely chained to an old well, was a hippogriff, who he recognised immediately as Buckbeak. This annoyed him no end. He was just wondering how far he could lean out before hurtling to his death and becoming Buckbeak's lunch, when he heard movement behind him.

"Weaselette."

"Malfoy." Ginny leaned against the doorframe. Draco took in her muggle jeans, cut off just below the knee to make pedal pushers, her slightly threadbare "God Save The Queen" Sex Pistols t-shirt, and a pair of Converse All Stars boots, which were navy blue.

"Been at the second hand bins, Weaselette?" said Draco, insulting her out of habit, his lip curling. Instantly regretting it, he awaited her comeback. She gave him a long look.

"Sorry to hear about your mum."

Shit. Now he felt bad. "Right." he fumbled for some cigarettes, reflecting proudly on the charm he'd found for refilling the packet. "Want one?"

"Sure." Ginny entered and seated herself cross-legged on the large desk. She took the proffered stick. They lit up. "Malfoy? Don't you dare tell my mother."

"It's Draco. Malfoy's a load of crap."

"Just Draco. What, like Circe? Or _Merlin_?" Ginny giggled good naturedly. (**NB- I wanted to put, 'what like Cher or Madonna, but they wouldn't know these ...idols**.) Draco smirked.

"Circe maybe. Reckon Merlin was a big old fraud."

They laughed, slightly awkwardly. Draco cleared his throat. Ginny looked at him for a moment and exhaled a column of smoke. There was a pause.

"Got an ashtray round here?"

"Yeah. Yeah I usually use this old saucer..."

"Morning."

Thank God, an interruption. Harry shuffled into the study, shutting the door behind him. He stared at the unlikely sight of Draco and Ginny laughing and smoking together.

"It's afternoon, Potter."

Harry grunted and slid down the door into a sitting position. Ginny smirked and stubbed out her fag. "Bad night?"

"Scar. Agony." muttered Harry dully. The smiles dropped off Ginny and Draco's faces.

"You'd better tell Snape," said Ginny, springing off the desk to crouch next to him. Draco chucked the butt of his ciggie out of the window, hoping it would strike the hippogriff below. "Harry?" Ginny suddenly shook his arm urgently. Harry mumbled something incoherent, before a violent, very sudden shaking fit took him.

"Shit!" exclaimed Draco, leaping off the window sill.

"You stay with him, I'll get Snape or someone..." Ginny yelled, already out of the door. Draco rolled Harry onto his back. Whereupon he promptly began to scream blue murder, writhing and twisting. Draco froze. He recognised the symptoms of torture using the Cruciatus Curse. He was still hopelessly staring as Harry unconsciously clawed at his scar, when Snape entered and unceremoniously shoved him away from the victim. He fell against Ginny, who gripped his arm in alarm. He glanced at her and she blushed sheepishly before releasing him.

Harry ceased to scream and began to breathe heavily before quietening and eventually awakening, his eyes apparently having trouble focusing. Snape beared over him. Harry blinked, trying to concentrate on the prominent nose. Lupin and Hortense rushed into the room, almost knocking over Bill, who was hovering in the doorway holding a small phial of restorative potion just in case.

"Potter, if you don't speak I swear to-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange is dead."

* * *

end of part 14 I will get on with part 15 soon I promise but now I must sleep. **Please Review**. 


	15. part fifteen: stew

Hello I know I have not been up to date AT ALL but here we are, Flying the Nest returns to your computers with a new part which I hope you will like. Thanks for the great reviews –keep em coming! And please check out my other fics which don't worry are both only one chapter –easier to read!

Love and kisses –**skinnyrita** xxx

* * *

Last line of prev part: 

"Bellatrix Lestrange is dead."

* * *

FLYING THE NEST PART 15 

Harry stood by the sink in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He was peeling potatoes by hand. It was strangely relaxing. He focused on the little potato knife in his right hand, which slipped every so often and nicked his wrist before he could snatch it away. He studied the tiny scratches critically. He was out of practice. At peeling potatoes. Because he wasn't at the Dursleys' any more. He wondered what they were doing. Probably renting out his room. Nah, knocking the wall through to give Dudley more space most likely. He balanced the white, damp, squashed ball on top of the others in the colander, and reached for another one.

Ginny sat on a tall stool pointing her wand at a large cooking cauldron and muttering 'cook damn you, cook!' while giving Harry furtive glances, replaying his fit and his words over and over in her head:

H- Bellatrix Lestrange is dead.

Silence. H stares at Snape, who is white and has a knot in the hair near his left temple.

H- I saw her die.

S- I. She.

H -(in unnervingly calm voice) I didn't do my occlumency last night. I was too tired. I dreamt that Voldemort had sent the Lestranges on a mission. I saw his face. He was smiling.

Lupin -smiling?!

H- Smiling. They were sent to kill someone important. It wasn't me. It wasn't Dumbledore. They failed in their task. The man they were sent to kill was not at home. They did not find him. Bellatrix Lestrange asked Voldemort for more time. He told her: you are the reason the Ministry of Magic is looking for us. And now you can't even kill one man for me?

S- who did she have to kill?

H (ignores Snape)- He tortured her. With the cruciatus. I felt her pain. He showed no mercy. She is dead.

Malfoy -Jesus.

Lupin- who were they sent to kill Harry?

Silence. Harry looks at Snape, and Snape knows.

H- Severus Snape.

* * *

Ginny began levitating the potatoes over the cooking cauldron, amusing herself trying to keep them up while they were sliced. She wasn't a very domestic person. The potato she was working on fell with a loud plop into the cauldron and stew leapt out onto the stove and spat at her. Harry finely chopped the remaining potatoes with the finesse of a natural chef and sprinkled them evenly into the mixture. Ginny armed herself with a long handled wooden fork with long prongs like a trident and poked the contents of the cauldron dubiously.

"How long will it take to cook, d'you reckon?"

"Half an hour or so. You can test it," said Harry, wandering over to a cupboard and extracting a butterbeer. "Want one?"

"OK."

They opened the bottles and set the stew for a long simmer. Ginny tried to transfigure the stool into an armchair and managed a car seat. She settled back and surveyed the cauldron, which was bubbling quietly and giving off steam. Harry seated himself at the kitchen table and stretched out so that his legs covered three chairs. They drank for a while.

"What did it feel like?" asked Ginny, very quietly. Almost a whisper into her bottle. Harry rubbed his nose. He couldn't pretend he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Like being ripped apart. Inside. I've ...felt it before." Ginny spilt some of her butterbeer on the car seat but didn't say anything. "But this was worse. It was incredible. And it seemed to go on and on for ages."

"It wasn't you know."

"I know. But it _felt _like ages. And then it got really, really bad, and I knew that He must be getting really pissed off. She was screaming. I was screaming. I was her. And then it stopped."

"Because she was dead."

"Yes."

"Oh."

They drank again. Harry shook his fringe out of his eyes and rested an arm on the table. Ginny relaxed. Then Harry laughed. Ginny's drink went down the wrong way and she sat up suddenly, coughing -his laugh was so unexpected in the circumstances. Harry waited for her to calm down.

"Now I want to ask YOU a question." he smirked into his bottle. Ginny whacked herself in the chest and gave a loud and final cough.

"What?" she croaked.

"What's going on with you and Draco?"

Ginny blinked. Harry tilted his head sideways and looked at her. His cheekbones shone in the firelight, and green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Nothing," said Ginny, a little too quickly. She pursed her lips and turned her attention to the cauldron. Harry snorted.

"I've seen him looking at you, you know. He's grown up a bit. We all have."

"Really?" Ginny's spoon paused on its journey round the bottom of the bowl, scraping at the slightly burnt bits. "Well. I couldn't care."

Harry was about to answer her when the door opened and Snape entered with Draco behind him.

"A word, Potter."

* * *

Ginny turned to the stove, concentrating on her culinary skills, with her back to Draco. He picked up Harry's half drunk butterbeer, took a swig, and swallowed because his throat was dry.

"That's Harry's one," said Ginny, without looking round. Draco smirked and picked up Ginny's instead. "Back-wash in that and I'll jinx you so many times you'll end up as a butterbeer."

"Why would you think I'd do that?"

"I have six brothers." Ginny stirred the stew three times clockwise and once anticlockwise.

"Your cooking usually good, or should I order takeaway?"

"Potions was never my strong point," said Ginny ruefully, ladling up a spoonful of beef and potatoes to inspect it. She needed Harry to come back and fix the dinner. She needed Draco to go away. Draco observed the car seat for a moment, and transfigured it into an armchair first time. Ginny groaned inwardly. "Were you looking for something?" Shit, that was rude.

"Drink. Company other than Snape. Armchair."

Ginny turned around and looked at Draco. His eyes were closed, face tilted to the ceiling and slightly toward the fireplace. She examined his neck. It was long and pale.

She wanted to touch that neck. Damn it.

* * *

"They found out I was a spy from Bernard Prod. He was an auror they captured weeks ago. We thought he was dead, but now it turns out that he was tortured and he told."

"Why would he tell? They killed him anyway."

"Everyone talks on the third day."

"You didn't."

Snape stopped pacing the study and stared at Harry.

"Dumbledore told me. You didn't talk, so they decided you had nothing to hide and welcomed you back. How did you stay quiet under veritaserum?"

"I invented a counter-potion."

"Bloody hell."

"It was never completed. I had been perfecting it on the day they came for me, and slipped the vial into my pocket. It was the only sample. The lab was destroyed. There is no way of getting it back now."

"You could use Occlumency."

"Occlumency! Potter, why didn't you do your Occlumency?! Idiot boy! Your father was foolhardy and cocksure too. As you were inside the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange, you could have been passing information of this place on to Him!"

"But you wouldn't have known they were after you again."

"Damn it Potter! You will make me lose my temper; do you really think all our spy hopes rest on me? Just one man?! I have had no less than eleven owls today informing me of His plans. If you will not listen to me, then listen to Dumbledore: you must do your occlumency!"

Harry gazed about at the room from his seat in one of the twin armchairs. He hadn't been in here since he had arrived. The desk was littered with papers and scrolls that he couldn't see, and there were five cages each housing an owl completely different from its neighbour. He was itching to go and look at the Order plans on the desk, but he didn't dare move. Snape began pacing again.

* * *

Ginny reached out a quivering forefinger and touched Draco's neck. It was cold. He tensed but didn't open his eyes. They heard their heartbeats hammering in their heads. Her fingertip travelled upwards, ghosting over his Adam's apple, coming to rest on the right side of his face. He opened his eyes, which were cool grey with long silver eyelashes. He looked up at her. The orangey light caught her hair, so that her face was wreathed in flames. They stared at each other.

Then Draco Malfoy, Heir of Lucius Malfoy, the great enemy of Arthur Weasley, pulled Ginny Weasley towards him and their lips met for exactly twenty-three point seven seconds.

* * *

"Professor?"

"What."

"I need to check on the dinner. Ginny's not very... experienced."

"Go away then."

Harry closed the study door quietly and crept down the stairs. He was met at the top of the stairs down to the kitchen by Ginny coming the other way. She gave him a guilty look and vanished up to her room. In the study above, Snape poured a large measure of Odgen's old Firewhiskey and downed it. Harry entered the kitchen and registered Draco sitting in an armchair, staring at the cauldron, which was bubbling over.

"Ok Draco, what did you do to her?"

END OF PART 15.

* * *

ok that was quite long but hey, I got into it. 

**_Please review_** –next part up soon –I hope! Xxxxxxxx


	16. part sixteen: player

hello all, I don't think I've updated this since like, October last year, which blimmin 'eck is a long time. It is now my number one priority: this baby needs to be finished. I can't believe this was my first ever fanfic and it's still not done. I mean, it's not even like I've done that many chapters. Well, here we go and enjoy, pleasey doosie. Love to anyone still bothering to read this one.

Disclaimer -I am not JK Rowling.

* * *

Last line of previous part: "Okay Draco, what did you do to her?"

* * *

**FLYING THE NEST PART 16**

Draco flushed and stared into his drink. "I didn't do anything to her, Potter. She's just pissed because she can't cook."

"Look, _I'm warning you Malfoy_…"

"It's Draco –leave it out, Potter, I'm bored of your suspicions."

"Mind your attitude _Draco_, no one here has to put up with you."

"Empty threat."

Harry thought of retaliating but didn't really want to seek a fight. Whatever had been up with Ginny would just have to be dealt with later. He turned back to the stove and addressed the dinner, which was nearly ready –he'd give it another five minutes, resisting the urge to help it along a bit, magically. When he turned back to the chair, Draco was still sitting in it, now gazing moodily at the ceiling with an affected, aristocratic boredom.

"Could you at least go and call everyone for dinner? I'll lay the table. Do us a favour, if you can, and get Ginny out of her sulk."

"Fine." Draco heaved himself out of the chair in an exaggerated show of fatigue and prowled out of the door and up the stairs. Harry stood there for a second with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was beginning to have a disturbing hunch about Ginny and Draco. Ron would certainly not like this.

* * *

Ginny lay on the floor in Buckbeak's room, where she knew Draco wouldn't want to come looking, if there was any chance that he would, which she doubted. She examined the kiss carefully, privately: from the moment her lips touched his, until (how EMBARASSING) she had remembered herself and ran for it. The hippogriff broke her silence viciously, making a big noise crunching up a mouse head. Yuck.

* * *

Severus Snape glanced down at his shot glass and contemplated another slug of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. He was meditating on the numerous ways he could kill Potter whilst still making it appear like a tragic accident… to depressingly little success. It came as no large shock to him that his cover as spy had finally been blown, he just couldn't help feeling more bitter that the arrogant boy downstairs, who was cooking his dinner, which if it was anything like the way he brewed potions would require a lot of courage to eat, had yet again disobeyed the direct order to practice his Occlumency. 

He recalled again last night's discussion: "What do I have to do to get you to understand, Potter? Do we all have to drop dead one by one, before you will get it into that overlarge head of yours that your little visions are of no importance to me whatsoever? Do not assume that you are important."

"No sir."

"Or indeed that we will all hero worship you if you ever do dream anything substantial."

"No, _Sir_."

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter…"

"YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY DAD!"

Oh yes, what a pointless exercise. A brief doubt flittered across his mind: perhaps he should not have dragged Potter Senior into the mix again. But damn it, it was so easy.

Snape's trail of thought was interrupted by a smart knock at the door. He hastily shifted a stack of books to shield the incriminating evidence of his uncharacteristic drinking. "Yes, what is it?"

Draco stuck his head round the door.

"Sorry, Professor, I just wanted to tell you that dinner's about to start."

That was his idea of a polite young man. Suitably deferential.

"Thank you, M- Draco. I shall attend presently."

* * *

Harry stirred the stew once more and stuck a fork in blindly, to taste. Hmm, good. It seemed alright; maybe his culinary skills were returning after all. Lupin and Hortense apparated into the room behind him, but he was so used to this now that he didn't even flinch. 

"Vot's that idiot been up to now?"

"Not sure. Something to do with Ginny. Taste this, would you?"

Hortense opened the cutlery drawer and pulled out a spoon before delving deeply into the stew and came up with a chunk of beef. "Oh… mmm… vot you say… tendy."

"Tender. Good. Well, help yourselves then." Harry turned around and found Snape at his shoulder, which was unnerving to say the least. "Hello, sir."

"That concoction _is_ safe to eat, then?"

Harry declined to answer and spooned as measly a portion as he could get away with onto the Potions master's plate before picking up his own. "We'll let you cook more often, Harry," said Lupin genially, throwing himself into a chair and eating with far more gusto than he'd been capable of since the accident, "fantastic dinner."

"It's a _stew_, Lupin," said Snape, cynically, tasting his gingerly as if suspecting it to be laced with something deadly.

"Severus, what a thing to say! It's jolly nice of Harry to go to this trouble."

"No, he's right," said Harry, privately thinking that if Snape didn't like his cooking, at least that left more for him. "I'm out of practice. Get hold of some fish and I'll do a haddock, egg and potato bake on Friday."

"Deal!" They heard the unmistakable tread of dragon hide boots on the steps down into the kitchen, heralding Bill's arrival.

"Alright? Sorry, figure work. Calculations, etc. Great Merlin, who'd have a desk job?" he plonked himself down next to Harry, sniffed the stew appreciatively and began eating with an enthusiasm that would suggest he hadn't eaten for days. "Where-s-Gin-ee" he inquired, mouth full of pulverized vegetables and the occasional string of beef.

* * *

Ginny was upstairs, back against the wall, being very quickly devoured. No, not by the hippogriff, though the force could amount to one. Hands in her hair… on her face… oh sweet Sengur, everywhere… she fixed her gaze in the ceiling, looking at nothing, struggling to regain some control of the situation. It was only when Draco got under her t-shirt that she suddenly remembered that this could be a very bad idea. "No, wait, Draco… Draco… Malfoy stop!"

They were both breathing heavily. Oxygen was scarce. Draco detached himself from her throat and said, "_what_?"

"I think we should go and have dinner now."

"WHAT?"

"Shh!"

"Would you just chill out, Weaselette, no one can hear us up here. So where was I…"

"Get _off_! If we don't go down, Bill will start asking me what I've been up to, and Snape will ask you, and Harry will as both of us, so I really think we should go and have some stew."

Draco braced his arms on the wall either side of her. She felt rather trapped. Their faces were inches apart. There were little flecks of green in his pale blue eyes, which looked sort of scary up close. "_You want to get some stew_." Well, he didn't sound that happy… "Look, Weaselette…"

"Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy."

"Why don't you just give in? It's very easy to give in."

Something clicked in Ginny's head. Boys. She knew how to play boys. After all, she did have six brothers to practice on. "No, I think I'd rather have stew," and with a shove that was disproportionately forceful considering her smaller stature, she landed the great Draco Malfoy on his arse, superbly crunching onto a new mouse head, and exited with all the grace she could muster. Draco sat there for a while and blinked.

* * *

_it was short but I hope okay, there will be more soon, but I am very bogged down in work at the moment. I hope this will suffice for the time being._

_please review, I do adore them. _

_skinnyrita xx_


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